#who up bein earnest

[thedoctorworm]

not to sound ancient but i had a delicious breakfast of hash and eggs and now im listening to jazz and reading and feeling pleasantly slow and full. i think im mostly making this post as a point of record (for myself almost entirely), that there are good times and there are lots of little joys in life

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost in Translation: Prologue

Summary: A college student (reader) forms a deep bond with a young professor, Spencer Reid, over weekly study sessions in the library. After months of building a friendship, they share a night together, only for the student to be left alone, Spencer gone without a word.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, backstory, mild smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: non-descriptive smut (18+), talks of sex, alcohol, professor/student relationship (but it's Spencer and he's 18 like his students), being used for sex, loss of virginity, (un)requited feelings, no happy ending for this part

Word count: 8.6k

a/n: new story just dropped lol -- wrote so fucking fast and not edited at all sorryyyy

main masterlist part one part two part three part four

Being a wonder kid, Spencer Reid’s youth was one of isolation. Growing up too young, too smart, too awkward—too everything to really fit in—made life difficult. He navigated a world where his intelligence placed him far beyond his peers, yet his age kept him at arm’s length from those who might understand him better. It wasn’t until he began teaching an engineering course while working on his PhD at eighteen that he finally felt a flicker of that belonging.

Standing in front of an auditorium full of undergraduates, Spencer finally experienced something akin to acceptance. The students, many only a few years older than him, loved the fresh, youthful energy he brought to their 8 a.m. class. For the first time, they weren’t learning from a middle-aged professor droning on about equations but from someone who felt like one of them. Spencer’s lectures were passionate, and he brought concepts to life in ways that made the subject not only digestible but genuinely fun.

It didn't hurt that he was handsome either; that soft hair, those gentle brown eyes framed by glasses, and the earnest way he smiled—all of it made more than a few students swoon over him at one point or another. Spencer, of course, remained oblivious to the dreamy stares and flirtatious comments.

Despite his newfound sense of belonging in the classroom, Spencer didn’t really hang out with anyone. He remained somewhat of an enigma—attending his own study groups, tutoring off and on, and sometimes grabbing lunch with faculty who treated him more like an adorable novelty than a colleague. He was used to it by then, that feeling of floating in between worlds. 

But one day, after a particularly engaging lecture on applied mechanics, a student named Jasper approached him. Jasper was bold, with a confident walk and a grin that suggested they weren’t afraid to push boundaries. “Hey, Professor Reid,” they said casually, leaning against the edge of the lecture podium.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Spencer replied, caught slightly off guard as he scrambled to gather his things. He was never quite sure how to handle the one-on-one interactions with students that felt too friendly, too casual. “Did you have a question about the lecture?”

Jasper laughed and shook their head. “No, actually, I was just thinking... Me and my roommates are throwing a party this weekend, and I was wondering if you’d wanna come? You know, kick back, meet some people... No physics or equations, promise.”

Spencer blinked, processing the invitation like a computer struggling to boot up. A party? With students? It felt... like an odd concept, but one that piqued his interest in a way nothing had before. He’d never really had a social invitation like this—especially not one involving people close to his own age. The idea was exhilarating, and for a moment, Spencer could almost feel what it might be like to be just another young adult, rather than the kid-genius-teacher everyone knew him as.

“Really?” Spencer’s eyes lit up, his grin boyish and genuine. “That sounds great, actually! Should I, um... should I bring anything? Snacks? Drinks? I can... figure something out.”

Jasper shook their head, laughter spilling out at how adorably sincere he was being. “No, no, don’t worry about it,” they said, waving off his concern. “Just bring yourself, cutie.” With a teasing wink and a quick flick of their wrist, they slipped a small note with their address into Spencer’s hands. And then, with that same confident stride, Jasper turned and walked away, leaving Spencer to stand there, flushed and stunned, staring down at the address in his palm like it was some secret code to a new world he’d been waiting forever to explore.

—

Spencer stood outside the house, his nerves and excitement mingling as he took in the scene. The address Jasper had given him led him to a lively place: music thumping loudly enough to rattle the windows, laughter spilling out through the open front door, and the warm glow of lights casting playful shadows on the lawn. People were milling around everywhere—huddled in small circles, raising drinks to one another, dancing, and talking loudly over the music. It was the kind of scene Spencer had seen in movies but never really experienced in real life.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and stepped inside. He immediately felt out of place in his neat button-down shirt and slacks, compared to the casual party attire of those around him. But he was here, and he was determined to enjoy it. As he made his way through the crowded entryway, Spencer's eyes were wide, absorbing every detail—the smell of popcorn and alcohol mixing in the air, the flashing lights, the loud music, and the laughter. He weaved through groups of students, dodging stray elbows and trying to make eye contact with anyone who might seem familiar. 

However, after a few failed attempts at small talk and realizing that almost everyone he knew was either preoccupied or didn’t recognize him outside the classroom setting, Spencer’s excitement dimmed a bit. He found himself gravitating towards a quieter corner of the living room, eventually sinking into the soft, worn leather of a couch, trying to look relaxed but not too out of place. He sat there, half-heartedly holding a cup of soda someone had pressed into his hand earlier, unsure of what to do next. Every now and then, a familiar face would pass by, and he’d offer a polite wave or smile, but nothing stuck. 

The longer he sat, the more he felt like an observer looking through glass, disconnected from the easy laughter and carefree movements around him. He sighed inwardly, wondering if coming to this party was such a great idea after all. But as he settled back into his seat, he heard an enthusiastic voice shout above the noise.

“Professor Reid!” 

He barely had time to look up before Jasper dropped down beside him on the couch, their presence as warm and electrifying as a flash of lightning. They were so close that the entire side of their body pressed against Spencer's, hip to shoulder, the sudden contact sending a warm jolt through his skin. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Hey!” he greeted, his voice louder than usual to be heard over the music but still tinged with that inherent awkwardness that never quite left him in social situations. He noticed the slight flush in Jasper’s cheeks, their eyes bright and relaxed from the party vibe.

“I thought you were gonna be a no-show,” Jasper teased, leaning in so that their mouth was close to Spencer's ear, their voice buzzing through him. “You seemed kinda nervous when I invited you.”

“N-no, not at all!” Spencer said quickly, though his laugh betrayed his nerves. “I was... just... you know, trying to, uh, soak it all in.”

“Well,” Jasper drawled, dragging out the word like they were savoring it, “now that you're here, we should make sure you have a good time. Can’t have my favorite professor looking all lonely in the corner.” They flashed him that teasing smile, the one that Spencer had come to recognize as Jasper's signature charm, and for a moment, Spencer forgot about the crowded room and the strangers dancing around him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling a bit more relaxed, the warmth from Jasper’s touch making the party seem a little less intimidating. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That night, Spencer had no idea how things would unfold. What started as casual chatter on that couch quickly transformed into something more charged, more intimate. Jasper had a way of making Spencer feel seen—really seen—and as they talked, leaning into each other, the lines between conversation and flirtation blurred until they no longer existed at all. Eventually, the touches grew longer, more intentional, and Spencer felt his breath catch when Jasper’s fingers brushed against the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their lips finally met.

It was Spencer’s first kiss, and it was exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once. He was clumsy at first, feeling every ounce of his inexperience and fearing that he was doing everything wrong. But Jasper was patient, guiding him with slow, teasing movements until Spencer’s hesitations melted into something fervent and desperate. They broke apart, breathless and flushed, and before he knew it, Jasper was pulling him up, leading him through the crowded party, down a narrow hallway, and into a bedroom.

There, it happened—the fumbling of clothes, the whispered instructions and reassurances. Spencer's heart pounded in his chest, the nerves and adrenaline mixing with a primal kind of desire he’d never felt before. Jasper seemed to know exactly what they were doing, leading and coaxing Spencer through the motions, and for once, he wasn’t overthinking, wasn’t caught in the spiral of his own mind. He let go, lost in the sensations of touch, taste, and pleasure as he experienced intimacy for the first time.

When it was over, Spencer lay on his back, panting, feeling a mix of awe and disbelief wash over him. He was almost scared to speak, to ask what this all meant. But before he could say anything, Jasper sat up and smiled, giving Spencer a quick, almost dismissive pat on the arm.

“That was fun, Professor,” Jasper said with a playful grin that lacked the intimacy they'd shared moments before. “But I’m gonna get some sleep now. Thanks for, you know, joining in on the fun tonight.”

Spencer sat up, a little dazed and trying to process the sudden shift. He nodded, feeling a strange lump in his throat, and muttered a soft, “Yeah, sure. Thanks... for inviting me.” There was no animosity in Jasper’s tone, but it was clear the night had come to its end. Spencer gathered his clothes, dressed quickly, and slipped out of the room, his head spinning with a thousand thoughts. He walked through the party once more, though he felt almost invisible now, slipping out the front door into the cool night air.

The next class was excruciatingly awkward for Spencer. He’d gone over the lecture material several times, but nothing could prepare him for the moment when Jasper walked in, took a seat right in the middle of the room, and gave him an easy smile like nothing had happened. Spencer struggled to maintain eye contact and found himself stumbling over his words more than usual. He felt exposed, raw, like everyone in that room somehow knew what had happened between them.

But Jasper was unbothered, unfazed—completely casual. It was as if that night was just another blip on their radar, a moment to be shared and then forgotten. And perhaps that was the point. As the days went on, Spencer realized that to Jasper, and probably to many others, it was just another night—no strings, no lingering feelings, just a moment of pleasure and then moving on. 

The realization was strange for Spencer. He couldn't help but question if that was just what sex was—casual, meaningless, but a great way to blow off steam. It felt anticlimactic to think that something so intimate was treated so carelessly, but maybe that was the reality. For all his intellect, this was an area Spencer had little experience in, and he found himself trying to adjust to this new perspective. Maybe this was just the way people did things, and maybe that night with Jasper was simply the start of understanding what it meant to live a life that wasn’t dictated by equations or theories, but by messy, imperfect human experiences.

—

The library was packed with students hunched over textbooks, fingers flying across keyboards, and whispered conversations about study guides. You were already on edge, the stress of your final exam making every little noise seem louder, every empty table harder to find. You hugged your books to your chest, eyes darting around for any free spot, your mind already buried in the formulas and concepts you needed to cram before tomorrow.

Then, without warning, you collided with a solid body as you turned a corner. Your books tumbled out of your grip, scattering across the polished floor. “Shit!” you blurted out, the curse escaping before you could hold it back. “Sorry!” You dropped down immediately to pick up your books, your face burning with embarrassment.

Just as you did, so did the person you’d run into, and the next thing you knew, there was a dull thud as your foreheads collided with a painful smack. You jerked back, clutching your head, eyes watering from the sudden sharp sting.

“Ow,” the guy groaned, rubbing his forehead. He winced, but there was a hint of a laugh behind the pain, a softness in his voice that made your embarrassment double. 

“Fuck, my bad,” you stammered, feeling utterly mortified. “I’m so clumsy.”

The guy chuckled lightly, standing back up as he brushed off his pants. “Me too, it’s alright,” he said. As you looked up, you finally saw who you’d bumped into.

It was him. Professor Reid—the young genius who everyone in your classes seemed to talk about, with rumors that swirled around him like leaves in a storm. The eighteen-year-old PhD who made engineering sound sexy, apparently both in his lectures and in the beds of the more... adventurous students. You’d heard more than one friend gush about how he'd helped them understand a complicated theory in more ways than one, their whispers tinged with admiration and amusement.

And now here he was, standing right in front of you, all tousled curls, warm hazel eyes, and that slightly awkward but undeniably charming smile. The closeness made you realize how tall he was, his lean frame towering over you. You felt a rush of heat creep down your neck, spreading across your skin like wildfire. You’d seen him from afar, of course—catching glimpses of him in lecture halls or around campus—but never up close like this, and he was... so much prettier than you’d expected. 

“Are... are you okay?” Professor Reid asked, still rubbing his head but looking at you with a concern that made your stomach flip. He leaned down, grabbing the books you'd dropped before handing them to you, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, gripping your books tightly, trying to ignore the fact that your hand was now tingling where he’d touched it. “I just... wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted, his smile widening a little as he looked at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I guess we're both guilty.”

“Yeah, guess so,” you said, forcing a laugh. God, why was it so hard to speak right now? You mentally cursed yourself for being so flustered. You quickly glanced around, realizing that most of the tables were still full, and suddenly it dawned on you that there were no available places to sit... except for the table behind him.

“Um... do you—do you mind if I sit here?” you asked, gesturing to the table he’d just been standing beside.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the table and then at you, a strange look crossing his face like he was trying to figure something out. Then, with that same awkward but genuine smile, he nodded. “Yeah, of course. It's all yours.” 

You thanked him quietly, moving to the chair and settling down, but as you did, you couldn't help but steal another glance at him—those curls falling just right, his long fingers thumbing through his notes as he lingered nearby. And as you opened your books, pretending to focus on studying, you couldn't stop sneaking glances at the very attractive, young professor. 

The hour that followed was filled with the gentle rustle of pages turning, pens scratching against paper, and the occasional cough or whisper from other students scattered around the library. But you couldn’t concentrate, not really. Your eyes kept drifting up from your notes to the table across from you, where Professor Reid sat hunched over his books, his focus so intense that you wondered what on earth he could be doing. Every now and then, your gazes would accidentally meet, and you’d look away quickly, your cheeks heating up as if you'd been caught doing something wrong.

You were in the middle of re-reading the same paragraph for the fifth time when you heard his voice break the silence between you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he began, the soft tone of his voice instantly grabbing your attention, “what course are you studying for?”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him. He was looking at you curiously, genuinely interested, and his expression was kind, almost encouraging. You tucked a stray hair behind your ear and cleared your throat, trying not to let your voice shake as you replied, “Oh, uh, architecture. I’m studying for an exam... final one of the semester.”

“Architecture!” Spencer’s face lit up, and he leaned forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. It was like you’d just told him the most fascinating thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way he seemed so genuinely enthusiastic. “That’s great! I’ve always thought architecture was such a beautiful blend of art and science—it’s like engineering for the soul, you know? There’s so much math involved, but it’s all to create something tangible, something that can change the way people experience space. And the way architecture has evolved over time? It’s like a living timeline of human innovation!”

He continued to ramble, moving from modern skyscrapers to the ancient marvels of Rome, describing the symmetry of cathedrals and the beauty of brutalism. The passion in his voice made every word seem like a story, and you sat there, leaning your chin on your hand, utterly captivated by the way he spoke. It was clear he loved to share knowledge, to connect different ideas, to see how everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle. 

You found yourself smiling wider and wider, nodding along as he spoke, absorbing everything he said not because you needed to know it for your exam, but because he made it all sound so alive. 

“Sorry,” he said suddenly, laughing softly as he realized he’d been talking nonstop for quite a while. He leaned back in his chair, a slight flush in his cheeks. “I tend to... ramble a bit. Especially when it’s something interesting. I hope I’m not distracting you.”

“Not at all,” you assured him quickly, shaking your head. “Actually... I liked listening to you.” 

He seemed surprised by that, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his eyes and offering a shy smile. “You, um... you make it all sound really exciting. It’s nice.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” Spencer smiled, a genuine, soft smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, the kind that lingered like a shared secret. You wanted to say more, to keep the conversation going, to ask him about the things he was passionate about. But before you could find the right words, Spencer glanced down at his watch and began gathering his books.

“I, uh, should get going,” he said, a slight note of regret in his voice. “Lots of things to prepare for—classes and, um... you know, life things.” He gave an awkward laugh, and slung his bag over his shoulder, pausing for a moment as if he were about to say something else, but then just smiled instead. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and casual, despite the fact that your heart was pounding harder than it should have been. He nodded, gave you one last shy smile, and turned to leave, weaving through the tables and shelves of books until he disappeared from view.

You watched him go, the way he held himself with that slight awkwardness, his long stride taking him quickly out of the library. And as soon as he was gone, you slumped back in your chair, letting out a breath. 

For a fleeting moment, you felt hopeful that you might run into him again, that maybe you’d have another one of those conversations that felt easy and exciting all at once. But then you remembered the stories—the whispers about how Professor Reid often slept with students, how it was no big deal to him, just casual fun. And suddenly, you felt foolish for reading anything more into his friendliness. What if he’d only started talking to you because he was trying to woo you into bed? 

You couldn’t deny that he was attractive—very attractive—but if all he saw in you was another potential fling, then maybe it was better not to get your hopes up. After all, Spencer Reid wasn’t like other guys. He was brilliant, handsome, and, from what you’d heard, had more than his share of admirers. You shook your head, trying to brush away the pang of disappointment and return your focus to your notes.

Still, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite shake the image of his warm smile or the sound of his voice. And a part of you—just a small part—hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Spencer Reid than the rumors said.

—

You were rushing, nerves jangling through your body like alarm bells. You were running late—really late—and all you could think about was getting to your exam on time. In your panic, you didn’t see the corner coming, your eyes glued to your watch as you cursed yourself for oversleeping. You rounded the bend with way too much speed, and before you could react, you collided hard into someone else. The force knocked you off balance, sending you sprawling to the ground, your books and papers flying in a wild scatter across the floor.

“Oh my!” came a startled voice. “I am so, so sorry, I was just looking for—oh, hi.”

You winced as you propped yourself up on your elbows, but the moment you looked up, your heart sank and soared all at once. There, standing over you, was none other than Professor Reid. He was staring down at you with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern, and his mouth opened as if he wasn't sure whether to apologize or help you up first.

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to get back up, your face flushing hot. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, I just—”

“No, no, please, don’t apologize,” Spencer said quickly, his voice soft but urgent as he bent down to your level. “That was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention either.” He reached out to help you up, his hands gentle as he grasped your arm and steadied you, making sure you didn’t trip over yourself as you stood. “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes darting over you to make sure you weren’t hurt. “I didn’t, um... hurt you or anything, did I?”

“No, I’m fine, really,” you said, though you could feel your whole body tingling from where he touched you, the warmth of his hand lingering even as he let go. You brushed off your pants, trying to regain any semblance of composure despite the fact that you were now not only late but completely flustered.

Spencer began gathering your scattered books and papers, handing them to you with the same focused attention he gave to everything else. He was quick, efficient, but still careful, making sure to line up the pages neatly before passing them back into your hands. “Here you go,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “You, um... dropped a few things.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the books from him and clutching them to your chest. And then you remembered. “Oh my God, my exam!” You looked at your watch again, the numbers glaring back at you as if taunting your lateness. “I... I have to go, I’m so sorry, Professor Reid, but I really need to—”

“Wait, wait,” Spencer interrupted, a spark of understanding lighting up his eyes. “Is it in the main lecture hall? The big one across campus?”

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “I have, like, five minutes to get there or I'm screwed.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” he said, a determined smile breaking across his face. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.” 

“Y-you don’t have to do that, I mean—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Spencer insisted, already starting to lead the way. “I’m heading that direction anyway.” You both knew that wasn’t true but then, with a quick glance back at you, he added, “Besides, it’s the least I can do after, you know... knocking you over.”

You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat, despite the chaos of the moment. “Okay, thanks,” you said, falling into step beside him. It was a strange, surreal thing—running across campus with Professor Reid at your side, his long legs matching your frantic pace. And even though you were still panicking about being late, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, like the whole situation was slightly less catastrophic just because he was there.

“Don’t worry,” he said between breaths, casting a reassuring glance your way as you both hurried down the path. “You’ll make it. I’ll make sure you get there on time.”

You made it to your exam with barely a minute to spare, heart still racing from sprinting across campus and the whirlwind encounter with Professor Reid. As you settled into your seat, your mind was a jumbled mess of nerves, exhaustion, and the lingering thrill of having Spencer Reid rush beside you, determined to get you there on time. The reality of having bumped into him—literally—and seeing his concerned, handsome face up close again was a distraction you struggled to push away. But as the exam papers were passed out and you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus, you felt a small swell of determination rising within you.

It wasn’t just about passing the exam anymore. No, it was about doing well—really well—because a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d run into Professor Reid again. And if you did, and if he asked you how your exam had gone, you wanted to be able to look him in those warm, interested eyes and say, “I crushed it.”

And so you put everything into it. Every formula, every theory, every bit of knowledge you’d crammed into your brain over the past few weeks. The hours passed in a blur of scribbled answers and focused thought, and by the time you handed in your paper, you felt a surge of pride and relief. You knew you’d done your best—maybe even better than your best.

—

The new term had settled into a predictable rhythm for you: classes in the morning, work in the afternoons, and then hours spent in the library for some uninterrupted study time. By the third week, you found a comforting routine in the silence and solitude of your favorite corner, tucked away but not too far from the bustle of the main floor. It was your place to dive into note-taking, to tackle assignments, and to escape from the chaos of student life. And though your schedule was tiring, there was something satisfying about the repetition—class, work, library, sleep, repeat.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and you were in the thick of your study session, textbooks spread across the table, fingers tapping absently against your highlighter as you scanned the pages. You were deep into a chapter on sustainable building design when a shadow fell over your table, and you heard a voice.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and immediately, your breath caught in your throat. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was, but the confirmation was still enough to make your heart skip a beat. Professor Reid stood there with that same friendly, slightly awkward smile, his bag slung over his shoulder and a stack of books in his arms.

“Professor Reid,” you greeted with a smile of your own, trying not to let on how quickly your pulse was racing. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes crinkling in that gentle way as he pulled out the chair across from you. He sat down, settling his things on the table with a soft thud, and for a moment, you were both just... there, in the kind of companionable silence that libraries are made for. Spencer pulled out his own work, a notebook and a pile of papers, and began arranging them neatly before him, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the edge of a binder.

“Preparing for midterms?” he asked after a moment, glancing up at you with a tilt of his head, genuinely interested.

“Yeah,” you sighed, giving a little shrug as you gestured to your scattered materials. “Trying to get ahead, make sure I don’t fall behind. You know how it is.”

“I do,” he laughed softly, his gaze drifting to the open book in front of you. “I’m writing one, actually. One of the joys of being on the other side of the classroom.”

“Wow,” you said, the laughter bubbling up before you could stop it. “That... actually sounds like way more pressure than taking one.”

“It can be,” Spencer admitted, a lighthearted grin playing on his lips. “I always end up overthinking it, trying to make the questions fair but challenging, relevant but not too obscure. It’s like creating a puzzle that someone’s actually going to solve.”

You nodded along, smiling at how earnest he was. “That sounds... kind of like how I feel about taking exams, actually. Trying to solve the puzzle without knowing if you even have all the right pieces.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, his eyes lighting up as he considered that. “Exactly,” he said, like he’d never thought of it that way before. “It’s a lot like that. But the fun part is watching the different ways people solve it, the different approaches and interpretations. It’s... fascinating, really.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but watch him, his hands moving expressively as he talked, the way he was so animated about his work. You’d heard him lecture from afar, but this—this was different. There was something more intimate about being across from him like this, sharing space, sharing thoughts. 

You smiled, leaning forward a bit. “Sounds like you really enjoy it.”

“I do,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “It’s nice to be able to help people understand things, to make learning something enjoyable instead of a chore.”

You nodded, and for a while, the two of you sat there, working side by side, an unspoken connection forming over the shared silence and occasional exchanges. And though you were both absorbed in your own work, you knew now that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d find yourselves at the same table, sharing the same quiet space amidst the noise of college life.

Every Thursday for the rest of the term, your routine became intertwined with Spencer’s. You’d meet in your usual spot in the library, setting up your notes and books, and he'd arrive not long after, dropping into the chair across from you like he belonged there. And for hours, you’d sit together—sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes falling into deep conversations about classes, life, and everything in between. It was almost comical when, after weeks of these meetings, he finally looked up at you, eyes wide with realization, and laughed softly.

“You know,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “I don’t think I ever asked you your name.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, blurting it out in a rush, and he repeated it back to you like he was savoring the sound of it. And just like that, something clicked into place. He’d ask about your exams, your grades, always genuinely interested in how you were doing. You, in turn, asked about his lectures and the classes he was teaching, and he would share his thoughts on the challenges of balancing students’ needs, all with that passion and depth you had come to expect from him. 

Your friendship blossomed, but it was always contained to those Thursday evenings at the library. It was a boundary neither of you seemed to cross—studying together, talking, connecting, but never making plans outside of the walls of academia. And that was fine, for a time. But as the end of your freshman year loomed closer and summer break approached, the thought of leaving and not seeing Spencer every week weighed on you more than you’d expected.

One Thursday, when you could barely focus on your notes because of it, you found yourself fidgeting, chewing on your pen cap as you tried to summon the courage to speak. Eventually, you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice quiet over the hum of the library around you.

“Mhm?” he responded, not looking up from the papers he was reading through but giving a small nod to show he was listening.

You swallowed, nerves bubbling up, but pushed through. “Would you, um, want to come over after exams end? You know, to... say goodbye to the year?”

Spencer paused, his pen freezing mid-note, and he looked up, surprise flashing across his features. He hadn’t expected that, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he considered your offer. The idea of spending time together outside the library, beyond your weekly tradition, was both tempting and concerning for him. He’d grown fond of your friendship, of the way you made him laugh and didn’t expect anything from him except a shared space and genuine conversation. But, deep down, a part of him still feared being used like so many others had. 

Yet, there was something earnest in your eyes, something that made him think maybe, just maybe, you really did just want to hang out. To be friends, and nothing more. He let out a small breath, nodding slowly. “Sure,” he said, offering a tentative smile. “What did you have in mind?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you hoped the heat wasn’t too obvious as you scratched the back of your neck, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “Uh, I didn’t plan that far ahead,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “Maybe... a movie? Just something casual.”

“Casual,” he repeated, almost as if testing the word out, and then his smile widened, a bit of relief and something like excitement brightening his eyes. “Yeah. A movie sounds good.” 

And just like that, you found yourself looking forward to what might be the start of something new—something beyond Thursday study sessions, something more than a quiet routine.

The Friday after final exams, you paced your dorm room, nerves buzzing through you like electricity. You'd barely slept since inviting Spencer over—second-guessing every detail, every word you’d said. But now, as you checked your phone again, you reminded yourself that it was just a movie, just two friends hanging out to say goodbye to the year. Nothing more. You tried to convince yourself that it was normal to be this excited.

And right on time—exactly at 7 p.m.—you heard a knock at your door. Spencer's punctuality didn’t surprise you, but it did send a rush of excitement through your veins. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before walking over to the door and opening it.

There he stood, dressed in casual jeans and a plain button-up shirt, looking somehow both effortlessly put together and adorably uncertain all at once. His curls were a bit messy, his glasses slightly askew, and he clutched a bag of something in his hands, which he immediately offered up to you with a slightly bashful smile.

“Um, I wasn’t sure if I should bring something, so I, uh, brought snacks?” he said, holding up the bag like it was a peace offering. You could see a mix of candy, chips, and a few other treats inside.

You grinned, stepping aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you—that’s perfect.” You felt a wave of relief wash over you as he stepped into your room, glancing around with curious eyes as he took in the posters on the wall, the books scattered on your desk, the remnants of your rushed packing for summer break.

“Your roommate left already?” he asked, looking over at the other, empty half of the room.

“Yeah, they went home the day after finals,” you said, trying not to sound too relieved about having the room to yourself. “So it’s just us.”

“Just us,” Spencer repeated, the words hanging in the air with a nervous tinge in his voice. He smiled softly and set the bag of snacks on your bed, taking off his shoes and settling in as if he were almost comfortable—almost.

“So,” you began, moving to sit beside him, your nerves starting to subside as you relaxed into the familiar presence of your study partner turned friend. “I thought we could just pick something light to watch, you know? Nothing too serious.”

“Light sounds good,” Spencer nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose, and for a moment, there was that playful glimmer in his eyes—the same one you’d seen during your library sessions, when a joke or comment would catch him off guard. 

You leaned forward to pick up the remote, scrolling through the options until you landed on a few comedies and light-hearted movies. You tossed out a few suggestions, and eventually, the two of you settled on a movie neither of you had seen before—some easygoing, feel-good flick that you knew would make you both laugh and not require too much thinking. You hit play, and as the opening credits rolled, you sank back into the pillows, side by side with Spencer.

There was a comforting quiet between you, a sense of familiarity even in the newness of the situation. And as the movie played and the two of you slowly started sharing the snacks he’d brought, laughing at the jokes on-screen, you felt that same feeling you always did on Thursday nights—the calm certainty that, somehow, this was exactly where you were meant to be.

The movie had been on for about thirty minutes, and both of you were already lost in the silly over-the-top humor. It wasn’t long before the playful energy from the screen found its way into your own conversation, and you couldn’t resist teasing Spencer a little every time he laughed at something you found particularly cheesy.

“Oh, come on,” you grinned, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I can’t believe you’re actually laughing at this. I thought you had... you know, a refined sense of humor.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, I can appreciate a good joke, okay? Even the dumb ones. It’s called versatility,” he said, giving you a sidelong glance before popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” you said, leaning closer as if you were about to share a secret. “You’re just pretending to like it so you don’t hurt my feelings.”

He chuckled, turning to face you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as his knee bumped lightly against yours. “Trust me,” he said, voice low with that familiar teasing lilt, “I’m not pretending. I genuinely think this movie is... absurdly entertaining.”

“Absurdly entertaining, huh?” you said, narrowing your eyes as you leaned in just a little more, close enough to see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. “I think that’s code for ‘terrible but in a fun way.’”

“Okay, maybe it is a little terrible,” he admitted, laughing openly now. “But in the best way.”

The lightness in his voice, the ease with which you bantered—it felt effortless. And then, suddenly, there was a shift. His laughter trailed off as he looked at you, his gaze lingering just a beat longer than usual. Your faces were so close, your knees brushing, your shoulders almost touching, and you noticed the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to decide something.

Spencer’s mind was a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to flirt, to let the playful banter turn into something more, but a voice in his head reminded him of past experiences—where interest in him was just a prelude to sex, a quick thrill before moving on. He didn’t want that with you. You were different—kind, genuine, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever you had by crossing a line.

And ever since meeting you, Spencer hadn’t slept with anyone. Your study sessions, conversations, and simple presence filled a void in him; being around you was all the release he needed. Now, sitting beside you, he just wanted to keep this intact, afraid that taking a step further might shatter what he cherished so much.

Little did Spencer know, your own thoughts were tangled with doubt. You'd been excited for this night ever since he said yes, but now, sitting so close to him, you wondered if he'd only come over for the same reason he might have gone to others in the past: sex.

The whispers around campus about Professor Reid’s quick, casual flings were hard to ignore. Reconciling that with the sweet, earnest man beside you felt impossible, but still, the thought gnawed at you. What if, to him, you were just another fleeting encounter before summer ended?

You wanted to believe that your Thursday study sessions meant more than a prelude to something casual, but the worry hung there, making your hand pause before reaching for the snacks. What if you were misreading everything? And if this was just casual to him, could you handle it, or would you rather preserve what you had now?

You glanced at Spencer, who was focused on the movie but stealing nervous glances your way. It was clear he was treading carefully, and you could feel the irony—both of you caught on the edge, too afraid to find out what the other truly wanted.

When the movie ended, the credits rolling silently on the screen, neither of you moved to turn it off or get up. There was an unspoken tension in the room, a pull that made it hard for either of you to suggest that this night should end. 

“Do you want to watch another movie?” you blurted out just as Spencer said, “I really like hanging out with you.” 

You both paused, your words colliding mid-air, and then burst into laughter. It was awkward, sure, but it was the kind of awkward that felt endearing, pulling you closer instead of apart. The kind that made you grateful for the comfortable silence that followed, where you both sat smiling like fools.

“Another movie sounds great,” he said, the grin on his face not fading, and you nodded in agreement. You both took a break—stretching, refreshing snacks, and using the restroom. When you returned to your dorm room, you found Spencer sitting more toward the middle of your bed, and when you slid in next to him, your bodies ended up pressed tightly together, the heat of his side warming yours through your clothes. You were hyper-aware of every place where you touched, but neither of you pulled away.

“Your turn to pick,” you said softly, handing him the laptop.

Spencer flipped through the options with focused eyes, and finally, he settled on a film—a foreign romance, its title scrolling across the screen in delicate script. You raised an eyebrow, curious but also a little lost. “Spencer,” you said, trying not to sound too nervous, “I, uh, don’t speak French.”

His eyes met yours, and this time, the way he looked at you was different—more intense, like he was seeing something in you that hadn’t been spoken aloud. It sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and almost intimate. “I can whisper translate for you... if you don’t mind.”

The idea of Spencer leaning in close, his voice softly whispering translations in your ear as romantic lines played out on the screen, made your heart race in a way you couldn't control. You could practically feel his breath on your neck already, the warmth of his words settling into your skin. 

“Okay,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper, the word catching on your lips as you tried to keep your composure. 

You pressed play, and as the opening scene unfolded, you found yourself sinking deeper into the bed, Spencer’s body comfortably close to yours, and your heart pounding in anticipation of every word he would breathe into the small space between you.

The movie’s soft music and dreamy cinematography made it easy to get lost in its world, but it was Spencer’s voice—low, rich, and soothing—that anchored you. He leaned in, and his breath brushed against your skin as he whispered the translation, his tone low and almost reverent.

“Élise tells her...” he began, his voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket, “‘When I'm near you... everything disappears. The whole world, the sounds, time... there's only you and me.’”

The words hung in the air, and your senses were drawn to the way his lips moved against you as he concentrated on the words. You couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the way he brought the romance to life, the intensity in his whisper making your skin tingle with every syllable. 

“Juliet replies...” he continued, not yet noticing how your attention was fully on him now. “‘You are the reason I breathe, Élise. Every beat of my heart... it whispers your name. If I could, I would spend every second of my life looking at you.’”

And that’s exactly what you did now—look at him. His eyes were still on the screen, but there was something in his expression that felt vulnerable, open, as if he wasn’t just translating lines, but baring something deeper, something unspoken between you. You couldn’t resist leaning in just a little closer, every inch of your body hyper-aware of the closeness between you.

“‘Then look at me... and never let me go,’” he whispered, and when he finally turned to meet your gaze, the intensity in his eyes nearly took your breath away. His voice was softer, more intimate, as if he was no longer speaking for the movie characters but for the two of you alone. “‘Because without you, I'm lost. You are my everything.’”

Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as you stared at each other, your faces so close now that you could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, the way his breath came out just a bit more quickly. Spencer’s eyes searched yours, and you could see the hesitation in them, the question he didn’t dare ask.

“‘I promise you... never, ever will I let you go,’” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his lips only a breath away. “‘Because I love you... more than anything in the world.’”

Neither of you moved, frozen in that charged space between a word and a touch, every part of you yearning to close the gap as the rest of the world fell away.

The words hung in the air, your shared gaze brimming with something unspoken and heavy. And then, as if on cue, both of you turned your eyes back to the screen, where Élise and Juliet leaned in, their faces close, the tension snapping as they fell into a deep, passionate kiss. The soft sounds of the movie filled the silence between you.

“Do you want me to translate that?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm on your cheek. The words were teasing but tentative, laced with a hope that sent a shiver down your spine.

But before he could say anything more, before you could second-guess the pounding of your heart, you closed the space between you. Your lips met his in a sudden, breathless kiss that left no room for doubt or hesitation. The taste of him, soft and warm, was everything you had imagined it would be. You felt Spencer’s sharp inhale, the surprise in his body, but then he melted into you, his mouth moving against yours like it was something he'd been waiting for all along. 

His hand came up to cup your cheek, gentle but sure, pulling you closer, and the world disappeared—just like Élise had whispered—leaving only you and him in the electrifying moment of finally letting go.

Deep down, both of you felt that nagging worry—was this just a fleeting moment, a one-time thing? But as your lips moved together, those thoughts slipped away, overwhelmed by the heat of the moment, the desperation in every kiss and touch. Spencer laid you back gently, his hands trembling slightly as he held you, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you wanted to stop. But there was only desire and your verbal confirmation, and so he continued, showing you the skills he’d learned over the past year.

And when the clothes were shed and the vulnerability became all-consuming, you allowed him to take your virginity, holding back that delicate truth out of embarrassment over your own inexperience. You didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want to add more pressure to a moment already so fragile and important to you both. Spencer, in turn, treated you with a reverence that spoke to his genuine care, his every touch slow and deliberate, like he was savoring each second. 

It was the most passionate, mind-blowing experience Spencer had ever had. Every gasp, every whispered name, every shared look made it clear why—it was you, and it felt like something more than just sex, something deeper, like he was baring his soul alongside his body. When it was over, the two of you lay tangled together, hearts still racing, bodies wrapped around each other like you could hold the moment in place forever. And in that perfect silence, Spencer’s arms became a haven, and you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe, happy, and loved.

But morning came like a cold shock. You reached out across the bed, seeking his warmth, and found only emptiness. The sheets were cool, and Spencer was gone—no note, no sign of him ever having been there. The joy, the love, the comfort you’d fallen asleep to vanished with the sunrise, leaving behind an aching emptiness and the haunting fear that maybe all your doubts were true.

—

Summer came and went, and though the days were warm and filled with distractions, nothing eased the emptiness Spencer left behind. The pain of waking up to find him gone never faded, and as you returned to campus for your sophomore year, the ache of his absence settled in deeper, an open wound that wouldn’t heal.

You looked for him—hoping to see that familiar face in the library, in a lecture hall, anywhere on campus—but every search ended in disappointment. It was like he’d vanished, leaving not a trace behind. Over the next three years, you went through the motions, diving into your studies and trying to let go of what happened, but the memory of him never left, haunting every quiet moment and making you wonder what you'd done wrong.

The truth was clear to you now: Spencer had used you, filling some void in himself for one night, and then disappearing, leaving a much larger void in your own heart.

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[nemo-writes]

𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖿 141 + 𝗏𝖺𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗌 ; 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 ── .✦

masterlist

── .✦ 𝗀𝖺𝗓; "𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇."

it was a quiet evening, the streetlights casting their soft glow on the corner chippy where the two of you always met. you hummed a happy tune as you walked up to your usual table, the heavy scent of fried chicken wafting in the air as you passed kyle his own healthy portion of food.

“i told you, you didn’t have to pay,” kyle said, his tone more exasperated than stern.

“and i told you i like taking care of you,” you teased, your lips quirking into a playful smile as you nudged the box toward him. “besides, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. you’ve never once said no to free chicken and chips.”

kyle rolled his eyes, but the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “it’s food. who says no to food?” he countered, reaching for a chip but avoiding your gaze.

“oh, sure,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “because it has nothing to do with the company or the fact you keep tagging along to my weird outings, like that experimental art exhibition last month.”

he groaned, though the flush rising on his cheeks gave him away. “you dragged me to that. i was just bein’ polite.”

you leaned forward, grinning. “polite? darling, you wanted to stay longer and even asked about the ‘existential crisis phase’ of the artist.”

his laugh was soft, and his shoulders relaxed as he shook his head. “maybe I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost in all that pretentious nonsense.”

you grinned, nudging him lightly. “face it, you like my taste in food and art.”

his expression softened, the banter fading into a moment of quiet warmth. “maybe i just like you,” he said, the words almost too quiet to catch.

your teasing smile faltered slightly, your heart giving a small, unexpected jolt. “good,” you replied softly, pushing the box of food even closer to him. “now eat before it gets cold.”

he sighed, shaking his head, but you caught the slight tug at the corner of his mouth, the smile he always tried to hide when you fussed over him.

as the two of you dug into your food, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—school memories, funny neighborhood stories—but it wasn’t long before the air shifted. kyle grew quieter, his usual animated demeanor dimming as he pushed his chips around the paper.

“everything alright?” you asked gently, leaning forward.

he hesitated, glancing at you, then back at his food. “it’s just… mum’s got these debts, y’know? they’ve been piling up for a while now, and…” he trailed off, his jaw tightening as he tried to swallow the frustration bubbling under the surface. “i can’t just leave her with all that. i’ve been thinkin’ about enlisting soon, but i don’t know if i can go until she’s sorted.”

your chest ached at the weight in his voice. he was always like this—shouldering burdens without complaint, looking out for everyone else before himself.

“have you talked to her about it?” you asked softly.

he nodded. “she says she’ll manage, but i can see it’s weighing on her. i don’t want to leave her struggling.”

you set your food down, your expression growing serious as you leaned closer. “kyle, you shouldn’t have to carry this all on your own. you’re trying to build a future for yourself—she’d want that for you too.”

he chuckled, wrinkling his nose, though there was no humor in it. “a future? come on, love. not everyone’s got what you’ve got.”

the words stung—not because he meant them to—but because you knew he was right. your family’s wealth was a chasm between you, one you’d always tried to bridge. but this wasn’t about money to you; it was about him.

“if there’s anything i can do to help, please tell me,” you said softly, your tone careful yet earnest.

kyle froze, his fork halting mid-air before clattering onto his plate. he looked up at you, disbelief flickering in his dark eyes, quickly replaced by something sharper—anger.

“help?” he repeated, his voice rising as he set his jaw. “what exactly are you offering, huh? to swoop in and pay off my mum’s debts like it’s pocket change to you?”

you blinked, startled by the sharpness in his tone. “kyle, I didn’t mean—”

he pushed his chair back with a scrape, standing abruptly and towering over the small table. “don’t pretend like you don’t mean it,” he snapped, his voice dripping with frustration. “you’re always treatin’ me, always payin’ for everything, and now you’re what? gonna save the day and solve all my problems with your bloody money?”

“that’s not fair,” you said, voice trembling as you sunk a little deeper into your seat.

“fair?” he barked out a humorless laugh, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “what’s fair about any of this? you sit there, livin’ this perfect life, actin’ all kind and generous like you don’t see the rest of us strugglin’. i don’t need your pity, alright?”

“it’s not pity!” you protested, your voice rising for the first time. “it’s me caring about you. about your mum. you told me you didn’t know how to handle it, so i thought—”

“well, don’t think!” he cut you off, his words laced with frustration. “i don’t need you to fix this for me. i need to prove i can handle it myself. i need—” he stopped, running a hand through his hair and exhaling sharply, his chest rising and falling with the force of his emotions. “i need to do this on my own,” he muttered, his voice quieter but no less tense.

you stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest, caught between understanding his pain and feeling the sting of his words. “kyle,” you said softly, trying one last time to reach him, “you’re not alone in this. please don't push me away.”

but he wouldn’t meet your gaze. instead, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and turned toward the door, his movements quick and jerky. “just… don’t,” he said, his voice strained. “i can’t—” he shook his head, unable to finish the thought, before storming out of the shop without another word.

the door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the small shop and startling the worker at the register. at a nearby table, two teenagers exchanged wide-eyed looks before pretending to focus on their phones, clearly caught eavesdropping on the heated moment.

you sighed heavily, your gaze falling to the half-eaten plates of chicken and chips, now cold and unappetizing. the warmth and easy familiarity of earlier felt like a distant memory, replaced by the bitter sting of kyle’s anger and the helplessness coursing through you.

somewhere out there, kyle was wrestling with his pride, his fear, and his feelings for you, but tonight, the weight of it all had created a wall you couldn’t break through. for now, all you could do was hope he’d let you in before it was too late.

. . .

kyle stood in the small, cozy living room of his mother’s flat, the news still fresh on his tongue. “i’ve done it,” he announced, his voice steady but tight with unspoken emotion. “i’ve enlisted.”

his mother glanced up from the kitchen table, her glasses perched low on her nose as she worked on a crossword puzzle. at his words, she set down her pen, her eyes softening with pride. “i’m proud of you, my love,” she said warmly, though a flicker of something unreadable passed over her face—concern, perhaps, or the quiet weight of a mother’s worry.

on the nearby couch, his sister sat upside down, legs draped over the backrest while a glossy magazine rested in her hands. she arched an eyebrow at him, barely looking up from her reading. “really goin’ through with it, huh?” she remarked, her tone teasing but edged with curiosity.

kyle nodded, his chest swelling with a mix of pride and trepidation. “yeah. training starts in a couple of weeks.”

his sister gave a noncommittal hum, flipping a page but glancing at him sideways. “guess we’ll see if you can handle it.”

their mother shot her a look, though her expression softened quickly as she turned back to kyle. “you’ll do great,” she added. “i know you will.”

then, she hesitated for a moment. her warm smile shifted slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. “actually, there’s something i need to tell you,” she said, her tone careful.

“what is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“the debts… they’ve been taken care of.” his mother revealed cautiously, her hands folded in front of her.

kyle blinked, confusion turning to disbelief. “what are you talking about? how?”

his sister shifted awkwardly and sat up, glancing between them before slipping your name. “she paid them,” she admitted.

“she—” kyle’s voice sharpened, his jaw tightening. “she? you’re telling me she went behind my back after i told her not to?!”

his mother’s face hardened, her tone firm as she cut him off. “she didn’t go behind anyone’s back. she came to me, kyle. talked it through like an adult.”

“she didn’t need to—”

“and neither did you!” she shot back, her voice rising. “she didn’t pay it all off and leave us beholden, kyle. we made an agreement. a repayment plan. something i can manage, with no handouts. she insisted on it.”

kyle’s anger faltered, confusion flashing in his eyes. “a repayment plan?”

his mother nodded, her voice softening but still resolute. “she took what you said to heart, kyle. she knew you didn’t want charity. this isn’t about that. it’s about lifting the weight off my shoulders so you wouldn’t go off into the world carrying it.”

kyle took a shaky step back, his mind racing. “she still had no right—”

“don’t you dare say that,” she interrupted, her voice cracking with emotion. “she had every right to care about us. and i agreed to it. i wanted to, because she offered me a way out that didn’t make me feel small.”

kyle’s chest tightened, the anger and frustration warring with the truth of her words. his mother, his proud and strong mother, didn’t look diminished. if anything, she looked relieved—lighter than she had in years.

“i just…” kyle swallowed hard, his hands clenching at his sides. “it’s not how i wanted this to go. i was supposed to take care of it. take care of you.”

“and you are,” she said softly. “you’ve been doing it for years, kyle. more than you should’ve at your age. she just… she gave us a way to breathe. for all of us. and if you’d stop being so stubborn, you’d see that she did it because she cares about you.”

his sister chimed in, her voice teasing but warm. “she’s always cared, you know. you’re just blind.”

kyle scrubbed a hand over his face, his heart pounding. it stung, knowing you’d taken on this burden despite his protests, but it wasn’t charity. it was a gesture—a compromise. one that showed you’d actually listened to his frustrations.

“i need to talk to her,” he muttered, his voice low but determined.

his mother smiled faintly, nodding her head. “that’d be a good start, love. maybe try thanking her this time.”

. . .

in the end, he didn’t get the chance to apologize directly.

you had left for a month-long cruise with your parents shortly after his outburst, and by the time you returned, he had already shipped out for military training. still, the two of you managed to talk it over in your own way. there were no grand gestures or face-to-face conversations, just quiet words exchanged through texts and the occasional call.

for a few years, your connection endured through these messages—fleeting moments stolen between his deployments and your relentless schedule. kyle’s military career kept him constantly on the move, often shrouded in discretion, while your ascent to inheriting your parents’ corporate empire kept you tethered to boardrooms and international flights. every time you made plans to meet, they fell through, derailed by his operational secrecy or your last-minute travel obligations. still, the bond between you remained steady, each exchange a small anchor to the friendship neither of you wanted to lose.

it was his sister however, who finally pushed him to close the gap.

“you’re home for a month,” she said pointedly, older and used to his antics. “you’ve got no excuses this time.”

kyle groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s not that simple, alright? she’s got her own life now. busy as hell—she probably doesn’t even have time to—”

“stop,” she interrupted with a sharp look. “she’s been asking about you, kyle. she still cares. you’re the one holding back.”

his sister’s words struck a nerve, but they were the push he needed. the next day, armed with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a box of chicken and chips, he found himself standing outside your upscale apartment building, heart hammering in his chest. the doorman, a wiry older man kyle remembered from his teenage years, gave him a knowing grin.

“been a while,” he said, nodding toward the building. “still carrying things around for her, eh?”

kyle chuckled, though his nerves prickled at the edges. “some things don’t change, mr. vance.”

the doorman smirked. “you're in luck, she should be here any time now. she’s always got a busy schedule.”

kyle was about to respond when the purr of an engine drew his attention. a sleek, unmistakably expensive car rolled up to the curb, its polished surface reflecting the golden hues of the sun. his grip on the bouquet tightened as he saw you step out, radiant in a stunning dress that seemed to catch the light just right.

but what froze him in place wasn’t just how beautiful you looked—it was the man who hurried around to your side, offering his hand as you stepped down.

the stranger, dressed sharply and clearly brimming with confidence, lingered too long in kyle’s eyes, his gaze on you warm and familiar. kyle’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, his earlier rehearsed words evaporating into a mix of uncertainty and irritation.

but it all melted away the moment you spotted him right back.

“kyle!”

your delighted squeal pierced the moment, your face lighting up as if the rest of the world had vanished. you pushed past the stunned man and darted toward him with a speed that startled him, especially on those heels.

the flowers and box of chicken and chips slipped from his hands, forgotten in an instant as he opened his arms just in time to catch you, your momentum lifting your feet off the ground as he spun you in a full, effortless twirl.

his laugh rumbled in his chest as he held you close, the world tilting for a moment as your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “bloody hell, love,” he murmured, his grin so wide it hurt. “you trying to knock me off my feet?”

“you were too slow!” you teased, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. your eyes shone with the kind of happiness he’d dreamed about for years, and he couldn’t help the way his hands tightened around your waist, grounding himself in the feel of you in his arms.

the doorman, standing nearby, shooed the sharp-dressed man who had stepped out of the car with you, his tone firm but polite. “sir, if you’d kindly step aside. looks like they’ve got some catching up to do.”

the man opened his mouth to protest, clearly annoyed, but the mr. vance's sharp gaze left no room for argument. With a huff, the man retreated to his car, leaving kyle and you to your long-awaited reunion.

kyle’s eyes never left yours as he gently set you back on your feet, though his hands lingered on your waist. “you look… incredible,” he said, his voice low and slightly awestruck.

you flushed under his gaze, your hands still resting on his shoulders. “you’re one to talk, sergeant,” you replied with a playful smile, your fingers brushing against the edge of his collar. “look at you—beard, broad shoulders, all grown up.”

his ears burned at your teasing, but he chuckled, shaking his head. “i’ve been through a lot since i saw you last, but none of that compares to this.”

“to what?”

“this,” he said simply, his voice softening. “you. here. with me.”

your laughter bubbled up again, and you leaned forward, pressing a warm kiss to his cheek. “i missed you too.”

for him, the years of distance, the unanswered questions, and the lingering “what-ifs” all melted away in that moment. you were here, in his arms, where he’d wanted you to be for so long. and nothing—no doorman, no stranger, no time—could take that from him.

before he could fully process it, you were tugging him towards the building, your words spilling out in an excited rush.

“you’re not going anywhere until you hear about this new art exhibition! you’ll love it—i know it’s exactly your thing. oh, and that restaurant you sent me on insta? i’ll get us some reservation, turns out i know the owner! he goes to my pilates class! and! i know a guy who can get those sneakers you mentioned. you’re going to look amazing in them!”

kyle could do nothing but smile—a big, silly, completely unguarded smile—as he followed you, the flowers and box of chicken now safely in your grasp. you clearly cared very little that they’d been dropped moments ago.

at that moment, nothing else mattered besides the warmth of your presence and the light in your voice. for the first time in years, everything felt exactly as it should.

banner credit

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 20] || [Chapter 22]

Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost x Soap || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: - Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: yikes.

Chapter 21: I BEG YOUR PARDON?

It was a familiar sight.

Gaz across the desk, Soap next to him behind the spare chair, Ghost in the back of the room a foot against the wall and arms crossed.

Except this time, Price was standing up, pacing the narrow space behind his desk, from the window to the wall.

“Explain it to me slow.” He demanded. “Like I’m five years old.” He had his arms crossed over his chest as he paced.

“Well, when Ma and Da love each other very much-” Soap began.

“Soap, I will put your head through the bloody wall.” Price threatened.

The shit-eating grin that had been on the Scot’s mouth was suppressed by a pressing of lips together, rapid blinking, and a nod. He had tried and failed at having a laugh at the Captain’s expense.

“Sorry, sir.” He replied.

“Explain.” Price demanded again, hands folded behind his back.

“I started it.” Ghost said from his corner of the room. “Kept talkin’ with ‘em after you had your little one-night stand.”

The younger sergeants didn’t look over. It’s become a strange thing to see Ghost at work, when they’ve gotten a bit more familiarized with Simon instead, back in your flat.

“Why?” Price asked in earnest as he looked at Ghost, stopping in his tracks to properly face him.

“‘Cause they make me feel good.” Ghost replied and crossed his arms.

Price stared at Ghost and, for a moment, his glare softened and his brow relaxed. “I see.”

With a deep breath, the older man tossed himself down onto his desk chair, legs spread and hands resting on his thighs.

“That doesn’t explain the two of you lot.” He pointed at Gaz and Soap.

“I found out about Ghost dating ‘em after they reached out to me to check on him because he went MIA.” Gaz replied.

“And how does that in you bein’ a bloody… polycule?” Price asked.

“I sort of took ‘em on a date on accident and realized how they made me feel and that I wanted to date ‘em.” Gaz said simply.

“And I thought Gaz and Ghost were dating and then found out they’re in fact also dating the same person and not just each other and-” Soap began to explain.

“Pump the breaks.” Price demanded. “Dating each other?” He repeated, sounding like he was this close to blowing a gasket.

“Nicely done, mate.” Gaz said sarcastically and hid his face in his palm, accidentally dislodging his baseball hat from his head.

“I BEG YOUR PARDON? YOU BLOODY FUCKIN’ IDIOTS ARE DATIN’ EACH OTHER?” Price raised his voice and stood up swiftly, sending the chair rolling back against the cabinets behind him.

When no one replied, he glared specifically at Ghost in the back of the room who, himself, was looking off to the side and looked at Price with an incriminating gaze..

“SIMON’S IN YOUR DIRECT CHAIN OF COMMAND!” Price scolds… Soap and Gaz only. “DO YOU KNOW THE TROUBLE THAT CAN BRING?!”

The three men remain silent, eyes forced open out of worry that blinking again will just set the captain off some more.

“IT’S ALREADY BAD ENOUGH THAT YOU’RE ALL DIPPIN’ YOUR DAMN COCKS IN THE SAME HOLE LIKE THEY’RE SOME SORT OF BARRACKS BUNNY BUT-” Price continued his tirade.

“Calm down.” Ghost commanded as he pushed away from the wall and approached the desk.

“Simon, don’t you tell me to calm down.” John ordered, though his voice sounded a lot more calm indeed.

“I’ll tell you to calm down if I reckon I should.” Ghost quipped and set his hand on the edge oof the desk, using his height to go toe-to-toe with their boss.

“You had fun with ‘em too, didn’t you?” Ghost asked with a cocked brow.

“That’s neither here nor there-”

“Cut the bullshit. Answer the bloody question.” Ghost commanded.

“I did.” Price admitted with a grumble and looked away.

“We’re just enjoyin’ ourselves too.” Ghost replied. “They’re considerate, funny, good company…” He trailed off.

“And they have a bloody flat that we can spend time in, with a proper kitchen for good meals, and a proper bedroom with a comfortable bed, and a proper shower that doesn’t have 20 other blokes bum ass naked-” Gaz joked.

“Right, it’s only 2 other blokes instead.” Soap added and him and Gaz nudged each other, earning a stern glare from the two officers in the room.

“Point is-” Ghost replied as he looked at Price. “You saw they’re nice.” He said directly. “Can’t fault us for likin’ ‘em.” He said directly.

“No, but I can fault you idiots for bein’ involved with each other on TOP of ‘em.” Price argued.

“Okay, so it’s not our proudest moment-” Ghost acknowledged. “But it’s happenin’. And you need to keep your mouth shut.” He demanded.

“OF BLOODY COURSE I’M KEEPIN’ MY MOUTH SHUT, SIMON! Fuckin�� hell!” Price complained and threw his hands up before turning to grab a cigar from his case.

“The brass will have all our bollocks f’r breakin’ nonfraternization rules. You f’r doin’ it, me f’r knowin’ it.” He grumbled as he cut the tip of his cigar with a huff.

“Not to mention I’ve been involved in this mess to begin with ‘cause I let you lot talk me into havin’ a one-night stand with ‘em.” Price continued, murmuring under his breath and scolding them without really scolding them.

“I can never get a ’old of you lot noawadays.” Price explained. “You’re meant to be on call.” He reiterated. “Always reachable. Always ready to fly out.”

“Yet I had to call Soap over 40 times two weeks ago ‘cause he was ‘asleep’-” He continued his rant.

“Aye, I was.” Soap replied, earning a shush from Gaz and a smack on the arm.

“And the moment we dismiss you lot from debriefs or meetings, you’re all running off to go be with ‘em, ‘xcept I didn’t know that was the reason until now, and it’s so much bloody worse than I ‘xpected.” Price complained.

The man was halfway through lighting his cigar and taking a puff when Ghost spoke again.

“If they didn’t find out about Cardiff, London, Cairo, Cabo, or Tel Aviv, they won’t find out now.” Ghost retorted.

Price whipped around so fast the younger lads could swear he’d give himself whiplash. “Don’t you bring that up.” He said to Ghost as he used his cigar to point at Ghost.

“I’m just sayin’.” Ghost replied, completely calm and unbothered. “If the brass hasn’t found out about the shite we’ve done while on the field, they won’t find out about us during leave.” He replied.

“Simon-” Price tried starting before he huffed through his nose and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Ghost simply shrugged and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell.” Price complained and sat back down on his chair, setting down his cigar on the lip of the ashtray and rubbing his face.

“Just get out.” He grumbled and waved them off with a dismissive gesture of his hand.

He didn’t peek from the spot where his face was hidden in his hands as he heard the men shuffling around and leaving the office.

Just as the door slipped to a close behind them, he heard Soap asking Ghost: ‘What happened in Cardiff?’

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[belovedmuichiro]

I saw a post once that entertained the idea of Tsutako being in the background of Sanemi’s hometown in the anime, and it got me thinking about a sanegiyuu childhood meet cute.

…

- When Giyuu was 13, he took a trip with Tsutako to a neighboring city where her fiancé had come from

- Though Giyuu was a much friendlier person as a child, he was still quiet, reserved and nervous. As a result, being in a bigger city was overwhelming and he struggled to keep up with Tsutako as they walked

- Before they could reach her fiancé’s home, Giyuu was separated from her in a crowd

- Without any people skills to speak of or the confidence to ask for help, Giyuu let the crowd swallow him up until he found a small spot he could cower in

- He ended up hiding under the stairs of a shrine where nobody could see him. He cried so quietly, nobody could possibly hear him either, but a boy did miraculously find him

- The boy was strikingly beautiful with stark white hair and piercing eyes. His presence made Giyuu stop crying almost immediately, but only because he was mesmerized.

- When the boy spoke, he was blunt and sort of rude but Giyuu hung onto every word he said as if he was a kind spirit come to save him

- “You cry like my little siblings,” he observed. It was a simple, random sort of thing to say but it perplexed Giyuu so much that he didn’t cry any longer

- Giyuu learned that this particular shrine is where the boy would find one of his brothers hiding, so when he saw Giyuu curled up, he thought something might’ve happened to him

- Giyuu reluctantly explained he was separated from Tsutako while visiting. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he should trust a stranger but they were clearly of a similar age and that put him at ease compared to an adult

- The boy gave Giyuu a small canteen of water before they could continue because the crying had obviously overwhelmed him. He then asked for the fiancé’s name, which he scowled upon hearing, surprisingly knowing the person

- “Is that bad?” Giyuu nervously asked

- “He’s one of the sons of our landlord,” the boy explained, “He’s fine. His family’s a buncha dicks.”

- Profanities aside, Giyuu asked if he could lead him there, and the boy agreed

- “What did his family do?” Giyuu asked on the way

- “Their kid brother said some shit about my family bein’ too big and my brother got into a fight with him about it.”

- “How big is your family?”

- “Nine of us. I have six siblings.”

- Giyuu learned that his mother had just given birth, which prompted the rude comment from their landlord’s son. He also had a father who he didn’t want to talk about on account of him angering some violent people

- Though the boy didn’t seem terribly interested in prying into Giyuu’s life, he still asked, “What about you?”

- “I just have my sister. My parents died when I was young.”

- “Lucky you have a sister.”

- “Yes… I’m Giyuu, by the way.”

- For a moment, the boy looked hesitant to give anymore details about himself, but must’ve decided he doesn’t have much to lose.

- “Sanemi.”

- On the way to the landlord’s home, it began to rain so Sanemi pulled Giyuu aside near a food stall to wait it out.

- Giyuu, as luck would have it, did have a small amount of money on him and suggested they share a meal.

- Sanemi agreed, not letting on that he rarely has enough money to ever eat out. However, Giyuu became curious when Sanemi awkwardly held his food at his side and wouldn’t take a bite.

- He didnt want to admit it, but his plan was to pocket whatever Giyuu bought him to bring home to his family. He wasn’t going to tell Giyuu, but the boy’s earnest, honest face pulled it out of him

- In response, Giyuu bought him another and asked that he feed himself as well

- When Sanemi finally did eat, Giyuu smiled for the first time. It flustered Sanemi, who quickly learned he couldn’t handle a pretty face

- When the rain ended, people came flooding to the streets in overwhelming numbers that scared Giyuu again

- To reassure him, Sanemi grabbed his hand and returned his earlier smile, promising he’ll be okay as long as they stick together

- Giyuu took to Sanemi with awe. The crowd was still scary, but Giyuu grounded himself in the feeling of his companion’s hand and trusted his word.

- Eventually they did find themselves at the landlord’s house. Most of the family was out looking for Giyuu, but luckily Tsutako stayed and was there to greet him.

- This was also a relief to Sanemi, who wasn’t sure he would be able to resist driving his fist into the face of the boy who fought with Genya

- Sanemi intended to leave with no commotion, just an odd empty feeling at the notion of leaving his new acquaintance, but Giyuu stopped him

- “Thank you for helping me,” he said with much more confidence than the first time he spoke. “You’re very kind, Sanemi.”

- Sanemi, flustered, shrugged and promised it was no problem. “Couldn’t just leave ya there…”

- “Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

- When Giyuu said this, he held onto the hope that because Tsutako new husband had close ties to Sanemi’s, they would surely meet again one day

- It was hard to explain but Giyuu felt drawn to Sanemi, like he was a special person he was meant to meet

- Of course, he couldn’t predict the tragedy that would befall both of them

- Years later, long after Tsutako and the Shinazugawa family were murdered, Sanemi was welcomed into the Hashira and finally met Giyuu again

- Only this time, he was quiet and cold. He didn’t give any indication that he remembered Sanemi and didn’t have any of the kindness he was full of as a child. Sanemi decided that he must’ve turned into a conceited ass with no time for the little people, he probably didn’t even remember him.

- But it was impossible for Giyuu to forget who Sanemi was. Even under all the scars and curses, he was still the boy who saved him that day. But Giyuu knew they had fundamentally changed as people, and clearly Sanemi wanted nothing to do with him any longer

- Unfortunately for them, the draw remains there no matter how far apart they try to drift.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Can I request a one shot for how Logan react to his shy gender neutral crush who always offer to help him whenever they think he needs it please?

Logan wasn’t used to people offering to help him—let alone someone like you, who was quiet, shy, and always seemed to linger in the background. You had a habit of stepping forward whenever you thought he needed a hand, whether it was something small like grabbing tools in the garage or volunteering to go on a mission with him. It wasn’t that Logan needed the help; he’d been self-reliant for longer than most people had been alive. But the way you offered—so genuine, so earnest—made him pause every time.

It didn’t hurt that he’d started to develop a soft spot for you.

Logan noticed you before you approached, as always. He was working on his motorcycle, crouched down, tightening bolts when he heard your soft footsteps behind him. He didn’t turn around, but he could sense your presence hovering, just like you always did when you were gearing up to offer your help.

"Hey, Logan," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, though he heard it clear as day. "Need a hand with that?"

He glanced over his shoulder, his sharp blue eyes meeting yours. He could see the slight nervousness in your expression, the way your hands fidgeted just a little. You always got a bit shy around him, though Logan couldn’t figure out why. You were one of the few people who made him feel calm, maybe even a little less like the gruff, lone wolf he’d spent most of his life being.

"Nah, I got it," he said, though his voice wasn’t as gruff as usual. There was a hint of softness, something reserved just for you. "But I appreciate the offer."

You nodded, looking like you weren’t quite ready to leave yet. Logan had noticed that too—you always stuck around, even when he turned down your help. Like you were waiting for another chance to jump in. And as much as Logan wasn’t used to needing anyone, he couldn’t deny he liked having you nearby.

"You don’t gotta help me all the time, y’know," Logan said, leaning back on his heels as he wiped his hands on a rag. "You don’t owe me nothin'."

Your face flushed slightly, and you glanced down, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. "I just… I like helping. And… I like being around you."

That made Logan pause, his gaze softening as he watched you. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed the way you always found excuses to be near him, but hearing you say it aloud? That was different. His heart gave a little jolt, something unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

"You like bein' around me, huh?" he asked, his voice low, more teasing than usual.

You nodded quickly, though your eyes remained fixed on the ground, too shy to meet his gaze.

Logan stood up slowly, dusting his hands off before stepping closer to you, close enough that you had to tilt your head slightly to look up at him. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, but there was something about the way you got all flustered around him that made him want to test the waters.

"You know, most people don’t go out of their way to help me," he said, his voice still gentle but tinged with curiosity. "So why you always offerin'? What’s in it for you?"

You swallowed, clearly nervous, but you met his gaze for the first time, your voice soft but sincere. "I don’t need anything in return. I just… care about you. And I like being there for you."

Logan’s heart did another unexpected flip at your words, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to this—having someone care about him just because they wanted to. But looking at you, standing there all shy and honest, he realized he didn’t mind it one bit.

A small, rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Well, darlin', if you wanna be around, I ain’t gonna stop ya."

Your eyes widened a little, surprised by his response, but a shy smile slowly spread across your face. "Really?"

Logan chuckled softly, reaching out to ruffle your hair gently—a small gesture, but one that said more than words. "Really. 'Sides, it’s kinda nice havin' someone lookin' out for me for a change."

Your smile brightened, and Logan felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t expected. Maybe having you around wasn’t just nice—it was something he’d come to look forward to.

[the-travelling-witch]

summary: a pouty demon has become part of your nighttime routine

pairing: mammon x gn!reader

warnings: fluff with mentions of insecurities (skin/appearance related)

obey me! masterlist

“Babe, how much longer are ya goin’ to take?” Mammon whined from behind you, his pout reflecting in the large bathroom mirror.

“I’ve only just finished with cleansing.” Turning off the faucet, you gently dabbed a towel over your face, watching the demon with affectionate eyes. “But everything else shouldn’t take too long.”

“Why d’ya have to do all of this anyway?” Apparently not content with your answer, he stepped closer to you and cut himself off with a yawn. “Just come to bed.”

You’d think that, as a model, Mammon would understand the importance of skincare but, to your annoyance, he was one of those guys who seemingly splashed their face with water and still had the perfect complexion.

Could demons also be god’s favourites? One glance over his shirtless form definitely swayed your answer towards ‘yes’.

“No, this is important. Especially if you keep sitting me down for a bowl of spicy late-night ramen,” you sighed. By now, Mammon had closed the gap between the two of you, his arms comfortably circled around your waist and his cheek squished against the top of your head. “Besides, I finally want to be free of these blemishes and look good too.”

Immediately, Mammon stood straight and held you a little tighter. The angelic eyes looking at you through the mirror were earnest and genuine as he spoke with a bewildered tone, almost as if what you had said never occurred to him.

“But yer already so pretty! How could ya get any more stunnin’ than this?”

That was what you loved about him. Despite his usually tsundere behaviour, he never failed to compliment you with his entire heart behind it. Having someone so sincerely tell you you were beautiful, while you wore an old shirt of his as pyjama, had no makeup on and had your insecurities out in the open like this, it made you start believing it too.

A thought that was kinda terrifying.

But you had no time to go teary-eyed or worry about whether you were starting to become too conceited or delusional. Not with this demon around. Before you could say something, Mammon had already swooped down, snowy hair obscuring part of your vision, and planted a sweet kiss onto your cheek. Both the surprise of his action and the visual of his face scrunched up in disgust as he tasted the toner on his lips made you laugh, shushing the voices in your head.

“That one’s on you, I already told you not to do that when I’m doing my routine,” you giggled. Then, you twisted in his hold and returned an equally affectionate kiss to his cheek. “Thank you so much though. Hearing that means a lot.”

“Don’t look at me like that! Just hurry up, so we can go to bed!” Though he averted his eyes, you could still feel the heat radiating off his face and you suppressed another laugh. He really was too cute for his own good.

Even though he’d complained a lot about the lengthiness of your little ritual, he still attentively watched you work, offering his concerns about the colour of a hot pink serum (“Should ya really be puttin’ that on yer face?”) and having his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when you casually mentioned one of your creams could bleach clothes or hair.

“Well, good thing your hair is already white and you’re already shirtless,” you joked as you finished putting on your moisturiser before turning and looping your arms around his neck. “Because I plan to cuddle you all-night long.”

“Ya’d better! Yer the only human who’d ever make me, the Avatar of Greed, wait, ya know,” Mammon huffed. Contradictory to his words, he had already swooped you up princess-style and set off towards the bedroom.

“Mhm and I am so glad you were generous enough to give me so much of your time. Maybe this,” you put a hand over his heart as he gently lowered you onto the mattress, “is made out of gold after all.”

“Now yer just bein’ cheesy,” Mammon snorted as he crawled under the black sheets with you and pulled you close, the same way a tide would always reach for the shore again and again. “Ya should get some rest before ya say somethin’ even more stupid.”

“But I was just about to confess to the best thing that ever happened to me,” you hummed. When he sceptically raised an eyebrow, you looked him deep in the eyes and smiled. “I love you, Mammon.”

For a fraction of a second his eyes widened in shock before he shut them tightly as he inhaled. When he opened them again, he mirrored your fond smile as a slender finger traced the side of your face.

“I love ya too, treasure.”

© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

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[morningsharksworld]

Baby, I'm Yours

A/N: Ive been listening to this song for a while due to a hazard edit that I found on tik tok and it just has been eating at my brain. AND I also wanted to test out on writing out his accent just for one fic though.

Summary: Hazard has something on his mind that he wants to talk to you about

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The sky was a bruised shade of purple, the last remnants of twilight fading into night as you and Hazard strolled along the quiet path. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and damp earth, but the warmth of his presence beside you made the chill feel distant. It had been his idea to escape the bustle of the world for a while, though he’d been unusually shy about suggesting it.

“It’s nice out here” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. Your eyes drifted to the horizon, where stars began to prick through the deepening dark. “I’m glad you dragged me away tonight.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and slightly nervous. “Didn’t take much draggin’. Yer always up for a bit of peace and quiet—not that I blame ye.”

You glanced at him, catching the faint blush dusting his cheeks. It was rare to see Hazard flustered, the man who seemed to thrive on chaos and sharp wit suddenly subdued.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked gently, stopping to face him. The moonlight caught the edges of his features, softening the usually sharp lines of his expression. His gaze flickered away, then back to yours, as if he were steeling himself for something.

“It’s... well, it’s nothin’, really” he started, but the quirk of your eyebrow stopped him in his tracks. “Alright, alright. It’s somethin.”

You waited patiently, your silence urging him to continue.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about how to say this” he began, his brogue thickening slightly with his nerves. “But words... they’re not exactly my strong suit.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Figured if I didn’t say somethin’ tonight, I’d never work up the courage.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the earnestness in his tone. “Hazard” you said softly, stepping closer. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

He nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Aye, I know. And that’s part of the problem. Ye make it too easy, bein’ yourself. Yer kind, patient, funny... and ye’ve got this way of makin’ me feel like I’m somethin’ more than just... me.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat, your chest tightening at his words. He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with a loose thread on his jacket as if it could distract him from the vulnerability of the moment.

“The truth is” he continued, his voice quieter now, “I’ve fallen for ye. Harder than I thought possible. And I’ve tried to keep it to myself because I didn’t want to muck up what we’ve got. But every time I see ye, every time ye smile, it’s like...” He paused, his voice catching slightly. “It’s like I’m yours already, whether ye want me or no.”

You blinked, his confession settling over you like a wave. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Then, without thinking, you reached out and took his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Hazard…” you said, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “Do you even know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Ye’re... yer no’ just sayin’ that, are ye?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not even a little. I’ve felt the same way for so long, but I didn’t want to push you or risk scaring you off. You’re ... you’re important to me, Hazard. More than I can put into words.”

A grin spread across his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He squeezed your hand, pulling you closer until there was barely any space between you. “Well, I’ll be…” he murmured, his voice tinged with awe. “Guess I’ve got to thank the stars for ye tonight.” You smiled, your free hand brushing a stray strand of hair from his face.

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Then, with a tenderness that belied his usual bravado, he leaned in and kissed you. It was a kiss that spoke of everything he’d been too afraid to say, of every moment he’d spent wishing for this one.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m yours” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Now and always.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but they were tears of joy, of relief, of finally finding something you hadn’t even realized you’d been searching for.

“Baby, I’m yours” you whispered back, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall.

The two of you stayed there under the starlit sky, wrapped in each other’s warmth, as the night seemed to stretch on forever. And for the first time, the world felt right—not because it was perfect, but because you were together.

[capricornlevi]

"workin' new years for the third time in a row should be illegal," atsumu scoffs, shoving another fistful of popcorn into his mouth. he's perched up on the glass counter closest to the exit, meaning he can slip off quickly if the cranky night manager sticks his head out of his office to check up on you two. "who wants to spend midnight in a movie theatre, anyway?"

you sigh, more fond than frustrated. "you've worked three new year's eves in a row and still don't know the appeal of our late night when harry met sally showing? it sells out by Halloween."

you're sitting in front of the register, having dragged some old folding chairs out from storage to rest on until close. the lobby is dead, and you've got an eye on the security cams to see if anyone leaves the packed screen down the hallway. if you're being forced to work late into the night, you'll at least be comfortable.

you hear a door creak and pause, checking to see if you're about to be scolded for pouring yourself another slushee on the company dime. when no manager surfaces, you return to the conversation, with atsumu stifling his yawn with more popcorn.

"'course i know about it," he chimes back, running his non-popcorn-holding hand through his messy blond hair. "just don't get it, is all, and i don't know why we're always the ones stuck on the holiday shifts, 'specially since we already did christmas eve."

"we're college students, 'tsumu. bottom of the pecking order in terms of festive rostering, i'm afraid."

he sighs, checking the clock behind the nacho display case -- you follow suit, seeing the second hand tick closer and closer to midnight. four minutes til new years, another thirty-ish before closing.

"want a refill on that slushee?" atsumu asks, sliding off the counter and stretching out his shoulders. his black t-shirt lifts slightly and you make an effort to ignore the toned muscles peeking out from underneath. "also -- those chairs look more comfortable than the counter, so I'm gonna steal one too."

even if you didn't know he was captain of the college volleyball team, you could likely guess from the strength in those arms as he shifts some boxes out of the way to take a seat next to you.

"yes please," you answer sweetly, a beat too late, throwing him a beaming smile as he rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

as he gets back up, he calls out, "cherry, right?"

something flutters through your chest as you call back to him, "right."

"heathen. blue raspberry is superior in every way."

it's your turn to scoff now. "there's no such thing as a blue raspberry, it's a made-up flavour. at least everyone knows cherries are red."

atsumu appears at your side again, handing you the drink. as you accept it with a smile, he places one of his cold hands on your forearm, laughing as you wince and shift away.

"you're ridiculous," you say, half-chuckling and half-earnest. "here i am, spending new years eve toiling away with you, and this is the respect i get."

"i never promised respect -- i promised slushees," he points out, eyes glinting as you meet them. "and we're not exactly toilin' away, i gotta admit."

you take a long sip of your slushee, hoping your lips don't stain red before the customers file out later.

atsumu clears his throat awkwardly, as if he's debating finishing the sentence.

"and it's not so bad, with you," he continues slowly, almost sheepishly.

in the years you've worked together, you have never heard him sound so ... earnest. turning your head to meet his eyes again, you see them diverted to his hands.

"not so bad with you, either, 'tsumu," you reply softly.

he looks back up to you. "i mean it, y'know. even if i wasn't workin', i wouldn't mind ... bein' with you. i mean -- i'd -- i'd like it, spendin' new years with you ..."

"i know what you mean," you gently interrupt him for both your sakes -- his, to relieve him of his uncharacteristically anxious rambling, and yours, so you can figure out how to get your heart beating at a normal pace. you turn in your chair to face him properly, lips curled up into a small, barely-there and very overwhelmed smile.

just as he's about to say something else, you see his eyes flick back to the clock.

"ten seconds," he mumbles, a few strands of hair falling into his forehead. you reach your hand to brush them out of the way for him.

"five," you smile, dipping your head in closer, and when you see atsumu do the same, you continue.

"three."

"two."

"one."

it's a slow kiss, slower than you'd ever expected. atsumu never did things slowly, never took things at any pace other than chaotic, but this is different. he handles you carefully, his hand at the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer to him, lips moving against yours as if savouring every part of every second he gets to do this. as though he's imagined it as much as you have.

you kiss him until you feel as though you're running out of air. when you finally pull away, you marvel at the light pink flush painting atsumu's pretty cheekbones, the look of longing written across the rest of his features, the way his eyes battle between focusing on your face or your lips.

"happy new year, 'tsumu," you whisper, and his smile matches your own.

"happy new year," he says, hushed and low, before leaning in to kiss you again.

you have another twenty-five minutes, after all. and for the first time in your time working here, you're grateful that this theatre schedules when harry met sally so late into the night.

[superbat-lmao]

It’s before Ethiopia and Bruce has asked for Dick’s help on a magic user case. Both of them get de-aged to 14/15.

So, we get Jason, who is more confident about his relationship with Bruce than he had been at 12, but was starting to get benched more often. Dick, who knows about Batman and Robin but doesn’t know Jason is adopted OR Robin. And teenage Bruce’s non-verbal ass who doesn’t know any of this. And poor Alfred, now looking after 3 teenagers with anger issues.

So Jason is the only one besides Alfred of any real understanding of what happened. Dick is trying to treat the situation like his first solo case without Batman since Bruce doesn’t know who either of them are, and Alfred is struggling to explain taking in two children Bruce’s age, and vigilantism, and magic.

After the boys prove they’re willing to do something incredibly dangerous without telling Alfred, he gives up and calls Clark. He’s the easiest way to convince Bruce he’s telling the truth about the world and will call in the Justice League to handle the magic user. Dick and Jason are pissed but Clark and Diana are there, so it’s not as bad as it could be.

There are too many people and Bruce is struggling the most to figure out how to act and for someone already non-talkative it’s even worse. He finds Diana waiting for him in his favorite quiet spot. Neither of them say anything for a long time. Eventually, Bruce breaks first and the two talk about what kind of person he becomes, how highly regarded he is in superhero circles and Gotham for being Batman and Bruce Wayne. But secretly, he’s most concerned about just being Bruce. About the two boys in his house that he’s a father to.

Dick and Jason really have it out. And sure, Dick’s skills surpass Jason’s at this age because he’s been an acrobat all his life, but Jason puts up a fight that’s dirty and mean and desperate. They clash badly and it’s brutal. Jason admits to not knowing about where the name Robin came from and Dick admits he’s not adopted. Dick starts to understand that Jason thinks Bruce only took him in so he could be Robin. And Jason starts to grapple with the fact he replaced Dick and took his family from him. They’re both miserable but they’re also both avoiding Bruce.

He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to talk to them and as the person who has the least understanding of what’s going on, they’ve been trying not to overwhelm him. Because they’re both pretty good at reading adult Bruce and this kid version looks like he’s gonna take off running at any minute.

Jason tries keeping to himself by reading in the library and Dick tries to stay in the cave but gets pushed out by the Justice League and has to do his workouts in the home gym. Bruce tries to stay in the kitchen with Alfred, who asks him to bring the other boys lunch and to try speaking with them for a few minutes.

Bruce asks Jason what he’s reading and is struck by how earnest he is, even if he’s defensive. It’s more honest than any of the other kids he goes to school with, who are concerned only with appearances and money. Bruce tells him what they’re covering in his own classes and Jason asks if any of the teachers are the same. Jason calls one old woman who was old when Bruce knew her a crone and it startles a laugh out of him. Jason thinks that maybe they’ll be okay.

Bruce finds Dick in the gym and watches him for a while. He startles him on accident and Dick lands on his ankle wrong. There’s a first aid kit in the gym so Bruce hands it to him and asks how he can help. Dick is surprised that Bruce knows this level of first aid this young and he admits to thinking about medical school and following his father’s footsteps.

Bruce is struck by how unlike other people Dick and Jason are. That if he had met them now, he’d like to think they’d have become friends. How they would have liked Harvey.

When the spell is reversed, Dick and Jason have a long talk about what it is to be brothers. Bruce and Jason talk about their relationship as being different from Batman and Robin. Bruce adopts Dick and they discuss his independence with a lot less yelling than normal.

[whimsicalpolitical]

this is for the anon who asked me about writing something about girlie who’s avoiding intimacy and Matty confronts her about it. I accidentally deleted your ask!! sorry, love.

It’s your first time staying over at your boyfriend's. it's nerve wracking for some reason. Maybe because you have all kinds of ideas running through your head about how your night could possibly go.

The thought about possible intimacy is scary, because you're not sure if you're actually prepared. You had set your mind to it on your way to his house; you will be ready if Matty asks to take things further. for his sake..

But, when the time had come, nothing happened. you expected at least something to happen. he's kissed you as per usual, however more than that has not occurred.

Now you’re laying on the couch, watching a movie that you’re not paying any attention to. You’re just focused on the arm that’s draped around you and your strength of not resting your head on Matty’s shoulder.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, love?” Matty’s smooth voice interrupts your thoughts. you clear your throat and shake your head, dismissing your own tendencies to overthink every little thing.

His big hands cover both of yours completely. They’re warm. Nice to hold. The older man lifts your hands up to his lips and kisses your palms. You sigh and finally relax after what feels like hours, "nothing, Matty."

Little did you know that Matty has long noticed what's wrong. You’re easy to read, your body language reveals every little thing you're feeling.

“Alright, can you look at me for a moment?” He asks, turning so his body is facing yours.

You do. You look at him, trying to lie to him that it’s nothing but your shaky hands and flushed cheeks betray you.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” You ask, fiddling with your hands in his lap. Matty’s gaze drops to them before he looks at your eyes.

“Can I?” He asks, probably the first time if he can take your hands because in your head it’s a common thing to be holding hands.

You nod, “yeah.”

He brings your hands to his lap and brushes soothing circles into the skin with his thumb.

“I’ve noticed that it’s always me who reaches out first, ehm in like connection to touch. You never really touch me unless I do first, d’you know what I mean? I just- did I do something wrong?”

The question hits you harder than you expected, and your throat tightens. You can feel the panic rising, but you try to push it down. “No, Matty… It’s not you. I promise,” you say, your voice trembling slightly.

He squeezes your hand. “Then what is it? You can tell me, whatever it is. I’m here for you.”

You look away, the weight of your past suddenly feeling overwhelming. “I’m just… not ready to talk about it yet,” you admit quietly, struggling to keep your emotions in check. “But it’s not because of you. I just… I have things I need to work through.”

“That’s alright, I understand, s’just, you need to tell me when I can touch you and when not.”

You sigh, “you can always, Matty. I’m just not used to affectionate touching and it’s kind of hard to let the past go just yet.”

“So I can kiss you?”

You smile, “yes.”

Matty’s eyes soften with understanding, and he leans in to kiss your forehead gently.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here,” he says softly. “We can go at your pace. Just know that you’re safe with me, okay?”

“Thank you.”

“Course, what dickhead would I be if I would ignore your feelings. I would never do something you don’t like and I need you to trust me on this.”

“I am,” you breathe in and exhale deeply bringing your lips to his cheek, “I do trust you.”

“Yeah?” He grins, “that’s good, great actually. Thank you for even bein’ honest with me, I appreciate earnestness.”

You stay close to him but at some point you get overwhelmed and pull back again, “s-sure, I’m sorry it’s-“ you groan.

Matty shushes you, “you’re alright, it’s baby steps. Darling, you gave me a kiss and basically hugged me, no pressure. I’m with you on this.”

You nod, tears stinging your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. For now, it’s enough that he knows something’s there, even if you’re not ready to share it all. And as his arm wraps around you a little tighter, you start to believe that maybe, with time, you can open up to him completely.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

can u write about Wilson gifting lil House his first ever paci n lil House bein a lil hesitant but quickly taking to it n wanting more colorful ones:3

- @tummy-rubs-for-wilson-pup

Here go, sorry it took so long dude! djfhskjdfh so many requests, so little evening hours 🙃

-----

Word Count: 706

Summery: House gets his first pacifier, and while at first he’s hesitant about using it, he slowly warms up to it and wants to get more.

-----

“No. Absolutely not.” House held up the white adult pacifier like it was diseased. He would have felt offended if it wasn’t for the sickeningly earnest look on Wilson’s face.

“Come on. It can’t hurt to try, right?”

“Sure it could. My dignity, for one. I like it, I’d like to keep it.” He put the pacifier back in the box and went to hand it back.

Wilson wouldn’t take it. “Who’s going to judge you? Me? I got it for you, and I don’t care what you do.” He pushed the box back towards him. “Look, you don’t have to use it, just… think about it. I don’t even have to be here when you do! Besides, it was like twenty dollars with shipping, so…” He rubbed his neck sheepishly.

House scoffed. Twenty dollars for this? That was highway robbery. “And for twenty dollars you chose the boring white one? You know what, fine. If it’ll make you feel better about being scammed, I won’t throw this in the dumpster the second you leave the house.”

Wilson smiled. “That’s all I’m asking. Oh, and speaking of leaving the house,” He stood up and grabbed his coat, and suddenly House felt like this whole thing might have been a trap since the beginning. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

“What? With who?” It couldn’t have been anyone in the hospital, he would have seen Wilson making goo-goo eyes at her by now. Had he met someone? But Wilson was a loser who didn’t go anywhere, so when did he have the time for that?

Wilson waggled his finger at him. “Ah-ah, nope. You don’t know anything about her, and it’s going to stay that way.” He grabbed his keys. “Think about it, House. I think it’ll be good for you.”

Then he was gone, and House was left on the couch with the package in his hands. Even though the box was closed, it was like he could see the item inside right through the cardboard. Having an adult pacifier in the first place was already humiliating, and having your friend buy one for you was nothing short of mortifying. And Wilson wanted him to, what? Regress right that second to use the “gift” he didn’t ask for? Yeah, right.

Right.

-

Wilson was just about to get up and check on House, because he’d been silent for over twenty minutes and that was never a good thing, when a laptop was dropped in his lap. A regressed House loomed over his shoulder, white pacifier in his mouth and stuffed cat in hand.

“What’s this?” The browser was opened to two tabs on an online shopping website searching for ‘afullt pavifers’. Wilson raised his eyebrows. It had been just over two weeks since he gifted House his first pacifier, and despite his adamant initial rejection he had taken to it surprisingly quickly. So quickly, he was apparently asking for more.

He clicked through both tabs. The first pacifier was similar to the one he already had, just in black instead of white. The second was also black, but with bright red and orange flames that bore a striking resemblance to the pattern on his cane. Very House choices.

Wilson hummed. “Hm, I don’t know… shipping costs a lot these days, and I recall a certain someone didn’t like these sorts of things.” He teased, “But maybe I could consider it if I heard the magic words?”

House tilted his head and scrunched up his face, before reluctantly lisping “p’ease n’ sthank ‘uo?” From behind the pacifier.

“Well that’s very polite of you, but the words I was looking for were ‘You were right, Wilson! I’m so sorry I ever—‘“ House grabbed the closest throw pillow and whipped it at his head. “Ah! Okay, fine. I suppose I can accept a ‘please’, go grab my wallet.”

In five minutes he was forty dollars— forty whole dollars— poorer and two new pacifiers were on their way. House gave him a grateful bonk on the head with his stuffed cat, then disappeared back to his room without so much as another word. He sighed and tucked his credit card back into his wallet. The things I do for this kid.

[erictmason]

“BOUND FOR FREEDOM, YEAR SIX, DAY TWO: “Scenery”

“Scenery of the Stage (or, Much Ado About Knothole)”

"Ready for your big moment, superstar?"

Sonic gave a playfully exaggerated bow at Sally's comment. "You know me, Sal: I was born ready."

The princess rolled her eyes a bit as she moved closer to the hedgehog at the center of the stage. "If that was true, you wouldn't have to do rehearsals."

"Who says I do?" the hedgehog asked as he stood back up, tapping the script he held in his hand. "Maybe I'm just bein' polite so you don't feel bad."

"Then that would be an impressive little trick, and I would love to run our scene together with just me having a script," Sally replied coolly.

Sonic chuckled a bit. "...yeah, well, maybe tomorrow," he said with mock-swagger.

"Somehow, I thought you'd say that."

Mindful of the scenery pieces around him, Sonic began to pace across the stage a bit. "...outta curiosity, how far have you read into this play Amy's puttin' on anyway?" he asked.

"Oh, all the way through," Sally replied with mock-swagger of her own. "That's my special talent: I actually read the scripts I'm going to be performing."

"Yeah, well, I speed-read mine," Sonic answered ("Naturally," Sally added in a playful whisper), "but I think I got the gist of it."

He pointed to himself. "I'm playin' a dashing debonair hero type, although there's apparently someone else in the play whose name literally IS Hero? But that's not me."

"Thank goodness," Sally chuckled. "I can't imagine how much worse your ego would get if you were literally called Hero."

She did her best not to squeak as Sonic zipped over to her side, now pointing at her. "And you play a lovely lady of Court who's known my character a long time."

"Apparently," Sally offered, "there's nothing they enjoy doing more than having 'witty banter' whenever they see each other."

That got an amused grin out of Sonic. "Oh I know, it's my favorite part of the whole thing! Lets me really put my razor-sharp wit t'work!"

"But only for so long," the princess said, now pointing right back at Sonic. "They do eventually fall in love, you know."

"Sure, sure," Sonic said, leaning back away from Sally's outstretched finger, "but it's not like they'd stop the banter after that point, right? I mean, they've known each other so long, why would they wanna suck all the fun out of their relationship just 'cuz it, like, went official or whatever?"

The two had a little laugh at that, but Sally's ears slowly perked up; Sonic could see in her eyes a thought had just struck her. "...huh," she muttered. "Two long-time friends who slowly realize they're in love while constantly teasing each other...."

At first, Sonic tilted his head in confusion, but it did not take long before his own ears had perked up. "...you don't think Amy was so insistent about us takin' on these roles for any special reason, do ya?"

They looked at each other, then the scripts in their hands, and then back to each other.

"Nahhhhhhhhhhh," they both said, waving each other off.

And yet, as rehearsal began in earnest, they realized just how little they had to change in how they spoke to play their parts.

[twilightmalachite]

Raison d'être - Prologue

Author: Akira

Characters: Shu, Mika

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Congratulations, Pinnochio! It’s great to be human, isn’t it!?"

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Apartment in France

During ES’ first year of establishment. Mid-March, at the house in Paris Shu is boarding at…

Shu: So, how do I put it? I still feel I am being derided for using a string phone, you see!

Mika: What does “derided” mean again? What a pretty-soundin’ word~. ♪

Shu: So I feel I am being ridiculed, you see! How am I supposed to tell vulgar snobs that way back when I was a student, I had not yet become accustomed to civilization?

Mika: Nnah~, ain’t that a bit different from bein’ looked down on? Doesn’t he just find it amusin’?

Shu: Oh-ho, do you find a difference between the two? You consider the former to be slander and the latter to be well-intentioned?

Mika: I-I don’t really think into it that much…

What's got ya so upset, Oshi-san? Weren’t we just havin’ a fun talk over the rules we have in my room at Starmony Dorms? Just small talk?

Y’know~, how I’d put a put a string telephone out from my room, and my roommate would be thoughtful and say, “Ah, so Kagehira’s talking to his Oshi-san today, huh?”

Shouldn’t ya feel grateful or happy hearin’ somethin’ like that?

Shu: And I resent the fact that a string phone is automatically being associated with me.

I know for a fact that in the minds of those spiteful people back in Japan, I am still nothing but a picky, old-fashioned senior citizen requiring special care.

Hah! The fact they can’t update their personal judgment of me is proof that they are the ones aging!

Mika: That has nothin’ to do with me~? I don’t know what ya want me to say, Oshi-san!

What’s the matter? Did ya have a bad day at university?

Shu: Hmph. Nothing went wrong, it was uneventful and peaceful. Who do you think I am?

Mika: I’m worried ‘cause you’re you, Oshi-san!

Shu: Are you in a position to worry about others? Have you become someone so distinguished?

That’s right!! You are your own person now! You can walk around on your own without me always taking care of you, can’t you?

Congratulations, Pinnochio! It’s great to be human, isn’t it!?

Mika: (Nnah~… Oshi-san really is always irritated~… Whenever I get excited or get in a good mood, Oshi-san seems to get angry in turn.)

(But, what is it he’s really angry at, then? Well, it’s possible it might actually be my fault…)

(I don’t got any clue…)

(I even came all the way to Paris ‘cause Oshi-san told me “I want to take an occasion to talk about the future”, despite bein’ so busy at the end of the school year.)

(Not only did I not get praised, but he started gettin’ all irritated the moment I told him I wanted to continue livin’ at Starmony Dorms fer the next year.)

(I wonder why. I guess it’s not what Oshi-san had in mind fer me?)

(But y’know, Valkyrie basically only has work in Japan, so it’s more efficient to stay in the area.)

(I’m not like Oshi-san, I don’t have anythin’ in particular I wanna study abroad. And I wouldn’t be able t’get into the same university as Oshi-san with a brain like mine.)

(But if I go and say I wanna live with Oshi-san, it’d just be selfish, wouldn’t it?

(I’d end up bein’ a nuisance to those at the house Oshi-san’s boardin’ at, and I wouldn’t have anythin’ to do even if I live here, y’know?)

(It is lonely, but… It’s a pain t’have someone nestle up with ya just ‘cause they’re lonely, right, Oshi-san?)

Shu: Non! How come your hands have stopped moving, Kagehira-kuuun? Have I forgotten to wind up the mainspring?

Mika: Nnaaah, why’re ya callin’ me by “kun”? It makes it feel like we’ve grown apart, it makes me sad!

Shu: It’s about right, isn’t it? Aren’t you always being overly-familiar? Thanks to that, I’ve even misjudged the distance between you and I!

I had been so deluded from that, I even had been preparing a new life for you and everything, in earnest! I’d even bowed my head to the landlady, secured you a room, and even furnished it! Everything was in order, kakaka!

Well, it all was done for naught! I’ve jumped to conclusions and rashly did something so excessive, laugh at my foolishness!

Mika: Nnah~…? I-If it’s what ya want, Oshi-san, I’ll get started on the moving procedures, then?

Shu: No, not necessary! I don’t know what I was doing, take the furniture and everything else I’ve prepared for you back to Japan, sell it, and use that money to fund Valkyrie’s activities!

While you’re at it, take back the work I’ve made in the past year and sell those off too! I’m confident that they’ll be sold for a reasonable price!

Our performance at SS, the war between worlds, was not very satisfactory, after all…

To think I was made to engage in a slapstick we were not accustomed to, if anything our reputations have been tarnished.

In order to wipe away these defects, we shall use the funds from selling everything off to develop a new artistic venture!

Practically, this is no time to get carried away with a new life!

Mika: My bad… I had no idea ya were lookin’ forward to livin’ with me so much, Oshi-san…

Shu: Me!? To what?! What was I looking forward to!?

Don’t go acting too cocky! You know, it’s because of you always leading me on that I’ve misunderstood—

Hm?

Mika: W-What is it? Oshi-san…?

Shu: Stop acting so jittery like you’re some small animal! It’s irritating!

—My phone is going off. Usually the landlady is very considerate to not call me while guests are over… Is it something urgent, perhaps?

Mika: The phone? Ahh, well I’ll be quiet, then~. ♪

(I-If anythin’, this might’ve saved me… This’ll help break up the strange atmosphere.)

Shu: Hello? Why it’s Nii-sama, isn’t that rare. What is it you need?

Yeah, yeah, aren’t you a bother? I’m doing just fine! Hadn’t I asked you to leave me alone? Why is it that you’re—

—…What?

… … …Understood.

Yes… I’ll return home soon.

Mika: W-What is it? That call was from yer big brother, wasn’t it—How come?

Shu: It’s my Grandfather…

Mika: Hm?

Shu: …It appears early this morning, my grandfather passed away.

[ ☆ ]

story directory | next →

[007-nightfire-yakuza-agent]

OOOOOOOOH did you go to Cape Point today !!!!!!! How was it !!!!!!!!!

yes i diddddd holy shit it was amazing it was so beautiful it was my 2nd fave part of the day after the taxi driver who i will talk abt in another post, but yes she took us all around the cape park, i climbed up onto the cape point n a bunch of other bits that were off trail i felt like a little mountain goat scrambling around, im so grateful for my health n my body bein able to carry me so well!! the view from the top was like peaking into heaven, seeing the waves crash against the cape was like nothing else - the ocean is so ALIVE here, foam and spray, we went to a few beaches too and also to that weird 1488 monument, it was all very beautiful, we saw so many baboons and ostriches and... maybe elands or kudus idk the fauna well enough, it was breathtaking.... after there we visited a particularly rocky n rough beach where i climbed up onto the rocks n felt the waves crashing over me and it was so beautiful. everything abt the cape is immense - the landscape, the ocean, the fauna, the weather, the people- it was like the world was more real there than anywhere ive seen before. the whole time i felt close to crying. the taxi driver, such a beautiful soul, seemed so moved by my appreciation of the land, she smiled as i clambered around in earnest. my crew members also are sensitive souls so they allowed me to indulge myself. it was much needed.

[graycats-arcane-blog]

Lightcannon Week, Day 7 Fic!

Prompt: Camping

Title: Take a Hike (chapter 2)

Rating: G

Length: 2.2k words

AO3: link

@lightcannonweek

Synopsis:

Once  they reached the campsite, Vi had some words to share with her sister, and her sister's friend as well.

. . .

“Now that we’ve had a minute to rest, we should start setting up camp,” Vi said. “Jinx, wanna help me pitch the tents while the others collect firewood?”

Jinx tipped her head. “I’ll still be able to help make the fire, right?”

“Yeah, they’ll just be collecting wood now. We’ll do the actual fire-setting once it gets dark.”

“Alright, I’m in!”

Thus, the others traipsed off into the woods, Caitlyn taking Warwick and Lux taking Pom-pom, leaving Vi and Jinx alone with the tents.

Vi upended one of their bags so that several poles, a tent, and a tarp scattered over the ground. “Alright. You find a rock-free spot and smooth the tarp out over it, and I’ll start sticking these poles together.”

“Who’s this tent for?”

“If I tell you it's for Cait’s parents, will you still pick a good spot for it?”

“… I might stick something snake-shaped under it. Just for a joke.”

“Then this tent is for you and Lux. And so is the next one, and the one after that, until Cait’s parents decide which one they’ll steal from you.”

“Aw, you’ve foiled my plans once again!”

Vi chuckled, then set about with her poles.

As she worked, she tried to think of how best to breach the topic of whether Lux was good for Jinx. What could she say that wouldn’t sound like she was being a jerk about Jinx having a friend?

Hey, sis, I noticed how happy you’ve been today and wanted to ask if this high will eventually be followed by such a severe low that you won’t be able to leave your bed for several weeks as you spiral downward.

Nah, that was a bit much.

Hey Jinx, has your therapist had anything to say about your new friend?

No, Jinx had never liked being asked about her therapy appointments.

Lux seems like a really cheerful person. Is that ever hard to handle when you’re in your low moods?

Maybe that was something okay to start with? That statement wouldn’t hit any nerves with Jinx, would it?

Right when Vi was about to tentatively voice her question, Jinx beat her to a conversation starter.

“Hey, Vi… Does having me around for this sort of stuff stress you out?”

Vi stared at Jinx, surprised by the question. “What?”

Jinx only met Vi’s eyes briefly before quickly looking back down at the tarp. “I’m just sayin’, I can cut back on the jokes about pulling mean pranks on Cait’s parents if it stresses you out. You know I don’t mean ‘em, right?”

When it hit her that Jinx was feeling insecure about this, Vi dropped her tent-poles and stepped closer. “Jinx, I know you’ve just been joking. I like your jokes – your pranks, too, as long as they don’t hurt anyone. I’m happy you’re here, really happy. I mean it.”

Vi placed a hand on Jinx’s shoulder, and Jinx met her gaze again. Pulling her lip between her teeth, Jinx chewed it for a moment before saying, “Pom-pom was on your chest earlier. He only does that when someone’s getting stress-swamped. He figures it out with his poro-senses, I guess. I just… I was worried that it was because of me. You bein’ stressed and all.”

"It’s not your fault.” Vi pulled Jinx into a hug. Jinx succumbed easily, melting against Vi and snagging her arms around Vi’s back. The rareness of the vulnerable moment was significant to Vi – there’d been precious few times they’d been able to talk about insecurities since their childhood without one of them saying the wrong think and blasting them off into an argument.

Vi was still afraid to say the wrong thing, but… She owed it to Jinx to return earnestness for earnestness. “So… wanna know what I’m actually stressed about?”

Jinx nodded against her shoulder.

Vi sighed. “I… I’ve never met a close friend of yours before. It’s daunting, seeing you attached to someone, and… I’ve always worried about you, about who you’re with, about whether you’re okay. I’ve got nothing against Lux, she’s been nice all day, and I know you're strong and can take care of yourself, but I just… I see your life changing, and I worry.”

“… I worry a bit when my life changes, too,” Jinx murmured, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I know what I’m like when I pick someone to… uh… To be my person, right? My, uh… My therapist says I have an issue with codependence, and I think she’s probably right.”

“…”

“It’s okay if you agree with the shrink. I promise I won’t snap at you and set all the tents on fire.”

“Heh. Alright, yeah. I know how much you tend to be influenced by whoever’s your favorite person, and I know how much it hurts you if that person makes you feel like you should do dangerous things, or… or if they leave.” Once again, Vi felt guilt creeping into her chest like cold water. “I know I wasn’t the best person for you back when we were kids, and… I know how easy it is to hurt someone, even when you care about them.”

“Yeah. It’s easy to hurt, especially when you’re a young, dumb kid in a shitty situation.”

“Yeah.”

They rested in their hug for a minute of shared comfort, and it eased Vi's nerves to have Jinx so relaxed around her, after everything they'd been through. Eventually, Jinx peered up from their hug. “Uh, by the way… I’m glad you keep inviting me out on family-bonding shit like this. Even though I usually turn ya down. I haven’t felt steady-in-the-brain enough to spend a long time around people for a while, but… I’m getting better. I mean, I think I am. And it helps that I can trust you guys, even the stinky Kirammans. I know there’s people who’ve got my back if everything goes wrong again.”

Vi’s heart softened. “Good. I’m glad you trust us. I’m always gonna be here for you, even if I’m not the best at saying so, okay?”

Jinx rolled her eyes. Stepping out of their hug, she returned to the tarp, smoothing it out over a patch of dandelions. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got you, and you’ve got me. Behold, the magic of sisterhood!”

Vi snorted. “Behold.”

As they continued setting up the tents, Jinx opened up about some of the habits her therapist had encouraged her to practice so that she wouldn’t “spiral back into a miserable, wailing pit of crippling codependency.” One of those habits had been to keep up with other family and friends, which had been the push for Jinx to say yes to this camping trip. Jinx also told Vi that she was trying to reconnect with Ekko, and that she had an apartment-neighbor named Ziggs who was fun to set off fireworks on the roof with. Vi was especially happy to hear that Lux was supportive of Jinx’s efforts, even giving her reminders when Jinx forgot that she had a meet-up planned.

By the time they’d finished with the tents, the others had returned with a good haul of logs and kindling for the fire. Jinx had run up to Lux upon her reappearance, jumped into her arms, and given her a tight hug.

“That’s enough work for a while!” Jinx announced, still clinging to Lux like a sloth to a tree. “I wanna swim in the pond!”

Finding her company in agreement, Jinx and Lux led the way down to swim off their sweat.

 

 

They spent the next hour at the water. Jinx and Lux initiated a fresh splash-fight, and this time, Vi and Caitlyn joined in. They even did a few chicken fights, taking turns shoving each other into the water. The elder Kiramans dipped their feet into the pond, but stayed dry aside from that, letting the younger generation enjoy their roughhousing. Pom-pom stayed on the shore with the parents while Warwick darted after fish in the shallows.

After swimming, they sunned on towels in the clearing, letting the last of the afternoon's light dry them off. Vi got a kick out of watching her sister melt as Lux massaged sunscreen into her shoulders, practically purring with contentment. Then, Vi had a mini-heart-attack when Lux leaned down to whisper "relax, good girl" into Jinx's ear, and Jinx shivered at the comment. 

... They were really close, huh?

By the time they finished sunning off, sunset colors were bleeding across the dimming sky. Jinx eagerly got to work building their fire, and they shortly had a tall, roaring bonfire that pushed the limits of fire safety. Caitlyn's parents pulled tinfoil wraps of meat and potatoes out of their cooler and set them to rest upon some coals. While these cooked, they also distributed some "mystery meat" sausages to roast on sticks which Jinx had added to their cooler. The flavor of those didn't seem to be to the Kiramman's taste, but it reminded Vi of street food she and Jinx used to get from Jericho's stall when they were kids. Warwick seemed to enjoy the sausages too, and Pom-pom didn't take much coaxing to try one. 

Once the tinfoil-wrapped meals were cooked, they began sharing stories while they ate. Caitlyn told them about an odd case she'd worked on at the precinct, then her father told them an old tale he claimed his grandmother had passed down when he was young. Jinx chipped in next with a funny story about some trouble she and her neighbor Ziggs had gotten into, then Lux rounded the evening out with a spooky story about a cursed graveyard she and her brother had explored back in Demacia. 

Eventually, they began heading off to sleep. The elder Kirammans returned to their tent first, followed by Caitlyn, who pressed a kiss to Vi's cheek before leaving the fire. Jinx, who'd taken a sleep medication with dinner, had been fluttering her eyes when Caitlyn left, and within the next fifteen minutes, her head slumped onto Lux's shoulder, her eyes slid shut, and her mouth went slack. Warwick and Pom-pom were dozing together beside Cait and Vi's tent, leaving Vi and Lux the only awake campers left. 

Vi watched Lux watch Jinx. The blonde woman had a gentle smile on her face as she tenderly tucked Jinx's bangs away from her twitching, ticklish nose. Humming happily in her sleep, Jinx absently nuzzled Lux's shoulder, inspiring her partner's smile to stretch ever-wider. 

They were cute together, and, more importantly, they seemed happy. 

"Jinx seems happy with you," Vi pointed out, her voice lowered soft enough to barely rise over the crackle of the remaining flames. "Happier than she used to be."

Lux glanced up to Vi, her tender smile not abating. "I'm glad I can make her happy," she murmured. "She's made me happy, too."

"What do you like about her?"

Lux didn't need to hesitate before answering, "Her sense of humor, her passion, her thirst for adventure." Tipping her head to the side, she added, "More than anything, I think it's how freeing she is that got my attention. I grew up in a family that asked me to hide parts of myself that weren't proper. Jinx has only ever asked me to be myself. Ever since I met her, I feel like I've met myself now too, and I'm grateful for that in a way that's too big for me to express all at once." She gently pet Jinx's hair. "I love who I am with her at my side, and I..." Lux blushed, her cheeks ruddy in the firelight. She turned her head slightly away, took a breath, and said, "I love her. I hope you don't mind me telling you that."

Vi blinked at Lux, trying and failing to meet the blonde's averted eyes. Vi glanced at Lux's hand resting tenderly on Jinx's hair, then at Jinx's contented face, her cheek smoothed adorably against Lux's shoulder. 

... Yeah. That makes sense.

"She's been through a lot," Vi said earnestly, "and she deserves someone who'll treat her right. It's hard for me to think of anyone who could ever be just right for her, but... You seem to be up for the challenge."

Lux let out a soft laugh, signs of nerves dropping from her face as the corners of her mouth crinkled. "You know," she said, "after everything Jinx told me about how protective you can be, I expected you to give me a shovel-talk as soon as we were alone together. But this has been nice."

Vi sighed. "If you ever hurt her, I think we both know that she'll hash out her own punishment with a blowtorch and fireworks before I can get a punch in edgewise. But, yeah, she's got people at her back, so if you hurt her, one way or another, you're toast."

"I'm glad she has people who'll take care of her like that, whether she feels like she needs it or not."

Vi grinned at her, straightening up. "I'm glad the number of people keeps growing," she said earnestly. "Welcome to the we-care-about-Jinx club, Lux."

Lux smiled. "I'm honored to be a part of it."